One Step Forward Two Steps Back
by xSeshatx
Summary: (Story sequel to The Basement). Months went by since Ponyboy had been found chained to a basement wall. He's hiding things from his family, and this proves to cause many things to happen that could have been prevented, like the bullying at school or the man who follows him everywhere he goes. What happens when one of the men from his past comes back to haunt him?
1. Chapter 1 - We'll Help You Yet

**[A/N]**

 **So I made some mistakes considering school and stuff in the first story. The Basement took place in mid-January in case I failed to mention that before.**

 **Here are the birthday's of the greasers, released by S. E. Hinton:**

 **Darry: January 5  
Two-Bit: June 20  
Dallas: November 9  
Steve: April 15  
Sodapop: October 8  
Johnny: March 1  
Ponyboy: July 22**

 **The ages for the previous story should've been, if they weren't:**

 **Darry: 20  
Two-Bit: 17 (Would turn 18 in the summer)  
Dallas: 17  
Steve: 16 (Would turn 17 in April)  
Sodapop: 16  
Johnny: 15 (Would turn 16 in March)  
Ponyboy: 13 (Would turn 14 in the summer)**

 **The ages for the beginning of this story are:**

 **Darry: 20  
Two-Bit: 18  
Dallas: 17-going-on-18  
Steve: 17  
Sodapop: 17  
Johnny: 16  
Ponyboy: 14**

 **This story takes place about nine months after The Basement, so it'll be set around mid-October (About nine months, not exactly. About nine and a half months after The Basement). (He had been home since January but was found in December since he had stayed a few weeks in the hospital before going home. I don't think I made this clear so I'm sorry for any confusion. I forgot this detail myself). Sodapop's birthday was a couple of weeks before this story started. Dally's birthday will occur during the story but it won't be mentioned until later (You'll see why).**

 **Also, I made some mistakes with the grades in school. Ponyboy'sgirlfriend pointed out that the high school the boys attend was 10-12, not 9-12. I haven't done my own research on this but I'll take her word for it. So I had to change the grades the boys were in a little bit.**

 **The grades they should have been in in The Basement are:**

 **Two-Bit: Junior  
Steve: Sophomore  
Sodapop: Sophomore  
Johnny: Ninth grade  
Ponyboy: Ninth grade **

**Johnny and Ponyboy were supposed to go to a separate school since they were in middle school and not high school. I won't go back to the previous story and change it but just know that in the first story, Johnny and Ponyboy were supposed to be in a separate school from everybody else.**

 **The grades they are in in this story are:**

 **Two-Bit: Junior (Same as The Outsiders. He's a Junior for the second time)  
Steve: Junior  
Sodapop: Dropped out (I didn't write about him dropping out. It happened during the nine months between the two stories)  
Johnny: Sophomore  
Ponyboy: Sophomore**

 **I hope this clears most things up. Sorry for any confusion this might have caused you. I try to be accurate with my information but sometimes I am wrong. If I made things even more confusing (which I honestly probably did) just ask and I'll clarify. Now on to the story. It's going to start off in Two-Bit's POV but for the most part, it's going to be in Ponyboy's POV, just like the previous story. (Like I mentioned, the story starts about mid-October which is ABOUT a month after The Outsiders book took place, even though the events didn't happen in this story).**

***Two-Bit's POV***

I didn't think I would ever understand the kid's love for running. He was locked in a basement for nine years and the first thing he found a true love for was running. Sure, he loved other things. He loved his stuffed dog, Scruffy. He loved reading books and he sure loved learning in school. He loved his brothers and the gang. He rarely openly said his love but it was visible in his eyes. His eyes may have been mostly fearful but I could usually see the underlying love hidden deep in them. There was sadness there, too. Sadness and pain. It didn't go unnoticed by anybody in the gang.

I watched him round the corner on the track and I sighed in boredom. I hated gym class because my gym teacher happened to also be the track coach. The beginning of class was always full of running, whether we wanted to or not. We all had to put in a full effort every single time we ran or else we had points deducted from our grade. I didn't care about the grade, to be honest. When it was my turn to run, though, I ran as hard as I could. I did it more for Ponyboy than for my grade. I knew he felt alone knowing that he was the only person in our gang who cared much about stuff like that. I didn't want him feeling more alone than he already did, so I did my best to put him at ease. I would try to convince the coach to let me race against my buddy. He let me for the most part because it got me to participate. When me and him raced each other, he would look back at me with a huge grin on his face. That was really something.

Ponyboy was just such a fast kid. Running came easily for him. He wouldn't get winded as easily as the rest of us and when he did get winded, he pushed himself harder to meet his own goal. Nobody had ever beat him in a race once he really got started. At first, when he first started running, he wasn't the fastest by no means. But he got faster quickly and without much practice. Within a couple of weeks, the coach asked him to be on the team. Everybody agreed that he should do that if that's what he wanted to do. He never lost a match.

"Let's go, Curtis!" the coach shouted, bringing me out of my thoughts. I looked back up at track and saw that Ponyboy was losing speed. I sat up straighter, ready to jump over the bottom of the bleachers in order to get there quicker. I had been sitting on the opposite side of the track on the bleachers waiting for my turn. Not to mention coach benched me for being too loud and obnoxious to Pony. I was poking him and cracking jokes. He didn't mind but the coach said that I was too big of a distraction. The coach was pairing Ponyboy with another fast kid in order to push him for the big track meet that was coming up. That's another reason why I wasn't paired with him for the day.

When his opponent passed Ponyboy, I was up on my feet and running across the field to make it to the other side faster. I watched him stumble as he slowed down to a jog. Then he stopped altogether and leaned over into the grass, throwing up. Everybody started to surround him and I ran faster, knowing that he would not appreciate being crowded. He wouldn't want anybody in class or even the coach to be near him. I knew he would rather me be there. We were buddies.

"Don't touch me!" Ponyboy gasped out when Coach put his hand on his shoulder. He had lost his balance and fell to his hands and knees, still emptying his stomach. I knew he was probably close to a panic attack. He usually got close to one when he was crowded. Or intimidated. It's very intimidating to be that vulnerable with a large group surrounding you.

I would normally have been winded after that sprint but I was too worried about the kid to feel the full sting. "Get back!" I snapped, pushing the other students aside. I walked up to Ponyboy and knelt down beside him, pushing the Coach's hand off. I took a good look at my friend's face. He looked so young and scared. He always did but it was worse at that moment. I knew he wasn't in good shape. "Pone?"

"Is he okay?" Coach asked, looking directly at me. Everybody knew about what happened to Ponyboy and how protective the gang was of him. They knew that we would know everything that was going on and that we could understand the kid. There's been a couple of times that one of us were called down to help the kid if something was going on. More than a couple.

"Probably just sick," I mumbled and told them all that he didn't like being crowded in an attempt to get everybody to back up. It didn't work. I moved so I was sitting down next to the kid instead of kneeling beside him. "Hey, kid. It's Two-Bit."

He looked up at me with pained eyes once he finished throwing up. "It hurts, Two," he whispered, sounding so sad and vulnerable. I guess he was. He was on his hands and knees on the track having just thrown up with a whole group of people around him. If that doesn't say vulnerable, I don't know what does.

"I know it hurts, kid," I said, gingerly putting my hand on his back. I was both delighted and surprised that he didn't flinch but I wasn't going to complain. "We'll get you to the nurse and Darry'll pick you up." He pushed himself closer to me so that his head was on my arm. In the nine months that he had been back, he hadn't gotten any better in most areas. He ate more and his eyes weren't as sensitive but he still barely spoke and he flinched at nearly every noise and physical contact. To say that I was shocked that he pushed himself closer to me would be an understatement.

"I'm dizzy...I don't think I can get up."

If there was one thing everybody knew about the kid, it's that that kid never spoke up. He didn't tell anybody when something wasn't okay or when something was bothering him. He wouldn't say he was sad or scared. He wouldn't talk about his nightmares or flashbacks. He wouldn't open up about his thoughts. We didn't know what made him angry, if anything did. We didn't know if he was ever happy. We didn't know if anything was ever wrong as opposed to normal. It was serious if he spoke up. He would talk to Sodapop and Johnny sometimes and, surprisingly, Dallas. I don't know what he said to Dallas but I knew it had to be something. He was vague with Johnny and Sodapop. He would say he had a nightmare or had a flashback but he wouldn't say what any of it was about.

"I'll carry ya, kiddo," I said and waited him to give me consent to pick him up. He nodded so I knew it was okay. I wrapped my arm behind his back and under his knees to pick him up. He wrapped his arms around my neck and laid his head on my shoulder. I noticed how warm he felt. His entire body was burning up. "You got a fever, kid?" I asked as I carried him off of the field, ignoring the stares of everybody around us.

"Sorry," he whispered, shutting his eyes. He probably knew that he had a fever and that was why he was apologizing. He didn't normally do things that we told him not to. If we told him to make sure he ate, he did. If we told him to work on his homework, he did. We hated that he was so obedient unlike normal teenagers but at the same time it wasn't like we were asking him to do anything serious. Eat, sleep, homework. That was mainly all we asked of him. We never commanded him to tell us what was on his mind because we didn't think that was fair. What we did ask of him, though, was to tell us if he was sick. If it was anybody else, I would've scolded him for not telling anybody. I couldn't do that to him, though. Instead I only pulled him closer to my chest. He was like everybody's kid brother, not just Darry and Soda's.

"You look like shit, kid," I said, trying to lighten the mood a little. He liked when we would joke about things and be brutally honest with each other. I think he just found comfort in the fact that that's normal for us.

"Always the charmer," he mumbled and I grinned. We all loved when he would get like that. He could talk back a lot sometimes. Never in a bad way, though. I don't think he ever talked back with attitude. He could get sassy sometimes.

"Gettin' mouthy on me?"

"It's impossible not to."

He almost seemed like a normal kid to me which was a nice change. I knew he wasn't a kid anymore. I didn't know him when he was a kid. He was already fourteen. But he still reminded me of a kid. To witness Ponyboy getting mouthy or something like that was like witnessing a baby's first words. But sometimes - most of the time - it was one step forward and two steps back. This wasn't going to be any different.

"You seem to be feelin' better already," I chuckled, knowing he wasn't but trying to get him to keep going. I knew he wouldn't be joking for long and I was right. His body started shaking worse than it had been so my grin fell. "You okay, kid?"

"I'm gonna throw up again, Two," he whined, squirming to get out of my arms. I gently lowered him to his feet and held onto him as he wrapped his arms around his stomach, throwing up. He was throwing up worse than he had been before and he was basically dead weight in my arms. I tried my best to rub his back while I held him up to try to ease him a little bit. When he was done throwing up, he leaned back against my body. I rocked him side to side slowly, hoping to calm him down. His breathing was heavy and I didn't want him to start panicking. It'd make him more sick.

"Get it all out, kiddo?" I asked when his breathing slowed, making my voice as soft as I could so I didn't scare him.

"Yeah," he whispered. His body got a little heavier and his head fell back against my shoulder. Without looking at his face, I knew he had passed out.

"Glory, kid," I mumbled, picking him back up. I jogged the rest of the way to the nurse. I just wanted it all to end because he was getting worse. I was worried. He seemed off. I wondered about what could've been making him act differently. I could tell by the far-off look in his eyes that something was really wrong. I wondered if he was on drugs or if he was drinking but I couldn't tell. I didn't smell any alcohol on him but that didn't rule out drugs. But I knew the kid wouldn't go back to that. He expressed his hate for them once. He was on drugs while he was in the basement and I knew it had left a bad effect on him.

I just wanted the kid okay. He was suffering so much and nobody knew how to help him. We tried everything we could think of but he was holding things back from us. Those bastards had taken away his childhood and we were worried they took away his life as well. He had been through so much and I was shocked as to how he was still breathing. I would've ended it if I were him. I'm so glad he didn't but that didn't take away the worry. How could he handle all the pain that he had been through? Hell, even I considered ending myself and I went through nothing compared to him. I never realized how selfish I was for even considering that. So what, my dad left my family. I grew up poor and got jumped a lot before I got tough. I still got jumped but at least I could hold my own. I lost people who came and went in my life. I had to grow up before my time just to help raise my kid sister. I turned into a giant jokester and a drinker in order to deal with the pain. I went through a lot and I knew that. But I also knew I didn't go through as much as many of my other friends.

Darry and Sodapop grew up without their youngest brother who had been kidnapped. That alone was horrible. Then right after they got their broken brother back, they lost their parents for good. There was no chance they'd come back. Steve's mom wasn't in the picture and his dad kicked him out constantly. He threw him out and he beat on him. Steve didn't just take the beatings but I knew that was probably the reason he became such a hateful person. Steve dealt with all his pain with hate. He watched his best friend suffer for years and he suffered himself when his mother walked out on them and his dad started drinking. Dallas' mom died when he was young and he grew up on the rough side of New York in different gangs. He got arrested at such a young age and his father really couldn't care less about him. He was as cold and heartless as it got and yet I knew there was something deep within him. He was hurting but I don't think he even admitted that to himself. Johnny, well, it wasn't a secret that he was hurting. He didn't feel ashamed to let the gang know that he was hurt that his parents didn't care about him. He tried to get them to love him even though we all told him it was pointless. His parents were bad people and that's how they were going to remain. His mom ignored him unless she was screaming at him. His dad beat him nearly everyday and the beatings could get vicious. Then he always had the Socials on his case because he was smaller and quieter than other greasers. He had given up hope more than a few times but the gang has always been there to pick him back up. But Ponyboy. He was a different case. It would take me hours to talk about what he's been through. It was horrible.

I had no right to even consider ending it. I had it better than anybody else in the gang. I lost my dad, sure, but he was still alive. I had my mom and I had my kid sister. My friends were better than anybody could ever ask for. I was loved. I made people smile. I had as much as I could ever want. I loved my life. I had no reason to ever even think about hating it. All I ever wanted to do with my life was to make people laugh and that's what I did every single day. I had all the support in the world. I was a hood yet my mom still loved me as if I was her innocent little baby I was at three years old. My kid sister looked up to me like I was her father instead of our actual dad. Sure, I drank a lot and I stole things but I was the best influence on her. I kept her motivated. I had my family happy and I kept my friends moving.

I had the best life a guy could ever want. I smiled to myself as I stared down at my unconscious friend. "We'll help you yet, kid," I whispered, rubbing his arm lightly. "I've never given up on anythin' before and I sure as hell ain't quittin' now."


	2. Chapter 2 - What Else Is He Hiding

I banged my foot on the door as I walked into the nurse's office so I could let her know that I was there. She jumped and whirled around in surprise but the look of surprise was immediately replaced by one of worry as she hopped to her feet and led me over to the small bed she kept in there for sick students. "Oh my. What happened?" she asked as I laid my buddy down in the bed. He remained unconscious. That worried me because he was a light sleeper. I told myself that he must've been exhausted from the fever, running, and throwing up.

"Ponyboy got sick in gym at the track. He passed out on the way here and threw up a couple a times. Mind if I call 'is brother? We're all like brothers," I said, adding that last part quickly because I didn't want her to think that I was just some kid. I didn't think she would because mostly everybody in school understood that I was as good as his brother. "I know the number, too."

"Go ahead," she said, not looking up at me as she took the mercury thermometer and stuck it under his arm.

I turned away from the two of them and walked over to the phone. I dialed his oldest brother's work number. I could've called Sodapop because I knew Soda was closer to the school than Darry was but I also knew that Darry was the adult in the situation. I was legally an adult, too, but that's besides the point. "Yellow?" a tired and bored voice answered. I rolled my eyes even though he couldn't see. I hated calling Darry at work because his coworkers were all very casual about everything and man were they slow. It took them ten minutes to get him on the phone one time. I wished that Darry wasn't all muscle so that he was the one answer the damn phone.

"I need to talk to Darry Curtis. It's an emergency," I said, trying to sound panicked so they knew it was serious. I knew it wasn't that serious but it was still pretty serious.

"Speaking?"

"Keith, his buddy," I said, scowling at my name. I forgot often that my name wasn't Two-Bit. It might as well have been my name. I never went by Keith. Even the teachers called me Two-Bit. My mom didn't even call me Keith ever since I got that nickname. It was just my name, that's all there was to it. I didn't want them to think I was prank calling them, though, so I used my real name. "I'm callin' from the school nurse. Darry's little brother is real sick. He passed out cold not too long 'go. He needs to come get 'im."

"Which brother?"

I sighed. It didn't matter. Only one brother was in school. The other dropped out. Darry's coworkers were just plain dumb. That's why they were answering phones. They weren't good for anything else. "The youngest," I said flatly. "Just get 'im on the phone, will ya? It's serious." I didn't want to say Pony's name because this coworker seemed so stupid that he might not remember there was a boy named Ponyboy Curtis who was found in a basement. Then I might get the lecture that it's not right to prank call work places like that to get a friend out of work. I thought Pony's name was pretty good and it seemed normal. I laughed when people didn't believe that it was his name.

"I'll call him down right now," the worker said, sounding just as annoyed as I was. "Mind waiting on the phone a while?"

I stopped myself from getting smart with the guy. I didn't want him to hang up. Pony needed his brother. "Don't mind at all," I mumbled, not even bothering trying to sound cheerful. I couldn't sound cheerful when I was in a bad mood. I'm normally a very cheerful person but not when Pony's health was involved. I could smart off to the cops for hours but not with people who could prevent me from getting help.

I watched the nurse place a wet cloth on Ponyboy's forehead. I assumed she was just trying to cool his body off. He was burning up when I brought him in. She turned to look at me and I raised my eyebrows. She sighed, looking back down at Ponyboy and stroking his hair lightly. He pulled away from her, though, even though he was still asleep. "He has a high fever. 103. It's not high enough to go to the hospital just yet, but it's still too high for my liking," she explained. I think I probably paled. We didn't want to see Ponyboy suffer anymore. He had suffered his whole life. It was cruel for the world to make him sick.

"I'm waitin' for his brother to get the phone so I could talk to 'im," I said before looking down at Pony when I heard him groan. "Is he awake?"

"No, no I don't think so," she said quietly, staring down at his sick form. He was pale and shaking like a leaf even while he was asleep. His cheeks were flushed and there was sweat running down his face. "I think he's still asleep."

"Why'd he pass out?" I asked, feeling myself get more nervous the more I thought about him being sick. "Will he be okay?"

I was as bad as Sodapop when it came to worrying about the kid. I did my best to act casual about it. I needed to keep everybody laughing. I could be worried but my best bet was to make people feel better by laughing and joking. I find most things genuinely funny so it wasn't like I was pretending to laugh and stuff like that when I did. When I was worried, I showed it through jokes. I couldn't take things seriously most of the time when I was around my friends. Alone, though, I would always think about him and I'd be serious. Even when I never met the kid I would often find myself laying awake at night and wondering if he was okay. I used to like to tell myself that he was alive and happy. He was with loving people who saved him from danger and gave him a safe, happy home. They cared for him and fed him and gave him everything he wanted. I knew I'd be mad as all hell if I found out that that was the case but I would also be grateful. That would mean that he was safe that whole time and he wasn't damaged. It'd be a happy Pony and that was all that mattered to me at the time. But he wasn't a happy Ponyboy and he wasn't found by a happy family. He was locked away as if he was nothing. He was stolen and tortured. He would always live with the pain. That would never go away.

She must've seen how worried I was about my buddy because she gave me a comforting smile. "I think he was just exhausted," she said softly. "You said it was at gym? Maybe he wasn't feeling well and he over-exerted himself. I wouldn't be worried about him passing out like he did."

"Hello?" a frantic Darry said into the phone before I got the chance to say anything back to the nurse. "Two-Bit? That you?"

"Hey, Dare," I said, turning my attention back to the phone. "You needta come an' pick Pony up. He has a high fever and was-"

"How high?" he asked, cutting me off.

"Nurse said 103. Said if it gets any higher than you oughta take 'im to the hospital. He was runnin' at track and he started throwin' up. He threw up again on the way to the nurse and then passed out. Nurse said he was probably just exhausted so we shouldn't worry much 'bout 'im passin' out," I explained to him as quickly as I could, knowing he was probably going to go crazy not knowing what was going on. I could feel his anxiety and worry through the phone. If Ponyboy wasn't sick, I would've joked about how overprotective he could get. But I couldn't joke because I felt the same way. I was worried, too.

"I'll be on my way. You stayin' with 'im?"

"Couldn't get me back to class if she tried," I said proudly, looking over at the nurse with a wide grin. She only rolled her eyes but smiled while doing so. I had my way with people. Many people liked me even though I was a greaser. I was a hood and proud of it. Most of the time people hate greasers and hoods. I was an exception because I kept everybody laughing. Even the Socs laughed because of me a lot, but they would never admit to it.

"Good, thanks," he said and then the line went dead. Bastard hung up on me. I couldn't blame him, though. He wanted to get to the school as quickly as possible.

"Try sayin' goodbye sometimes, Muscles," I muttered, putting the phone down. I walked over to the bed that my sick friend was asleep in and sat down next to him. I stroked his hair, frowning when he pulled away from me just like he did with the nurse. I sighed lightly. It was nice while it lasted, I guess. He was asleep and back to his normal self, pulling away from physical contact and all of that.

"Has he adjusted well?" the nurse asked from beside me. Everybody knew the minor details about what happened. The school knew a little bit more details so they could handle his situation better. Everybody knew that he was found in a basement and was abused by his kidnappers. The school knew it was more than just physical abuse. The Curtis parents asked the police to keep as much details as they could from the public so they did their best to limit the information everybody knew. I shrugged because in all honesty I had no idea how he was adjusting. I didn't think he was at all in most aspects. "A lot of his teachers are worried about him."

"Why?" I asked, allowing myself to look away from my friend and up at her.

"He's so...quiet," she said quietly, watching Pony's face. I looked back down, too. "He walks around like he's scared of everybody. Lord, I wouldn't blame him if he is scared of everyone. He's been called to the office a lot to talk to the school counselor but he never talks. We try to offer him help but he never lets us."

"I didn't know the counselor calls him down. I doubt his brothers do, either. If they knew then I would know, too," I said, frowning. What else was he hiding from us?

"He's never mentioned it?"

"Not a thing," I sighed, watching as Pony's face twisted up in discomfort. I didn't think it was a nightmare as much as I thought he was just not feeling very well.

"Do you know about his, um...episodes?"

"Episodes?"

"His panic attacks," she clarified. I stiffened. I knew he had them but I had a feeling she was going to tell me that he had them more than I knew. I had been called down to help him relax a few times in the past. We all had. At the middle school, Johnny was called down. When they came up to the high school, we all did. Everybody but Sodapop. He had dropped out before the school year started.

"I know about the ones where one of us are called down," I said, clenching my fists. I hated the people who did all of this to the poor kid. I hated them so much. "It happens a lot at home. Once a day at least, usually."

"We don't always call you boys down," she said gently, probably knowing I wasn't expecting to hear that information. "We call you down when we can't get it under control. We can a lot of the time, though. It happens a lot in his classes. It happens more than I think is normal. Though, with his situation, I can't blame him."

"He never tells us," I mumbled, trying to stroke his hair again. This time he let me. I had a feeling he heard us talking and recognized my voice in his sleep. I liked that thought. "I'll talk to his brothers. Do you think he should be pulled from school or somethin'?"

"You mean put him in home-schooling?"

"Yeah."

"He's an extremely bright young man," she said and I heard admiration in her voice. Not many kids could go years without any education and come back being that smart. Nobody could go through what he had for so long and still manage to go to school on a daily basis. "He's one of our best students. He's at the top of his class even though he's the absolute youngest in the school. He's smarter than most students, even the seniors. He's the star of the track team, winning every single race and surprising everybody. He's just behind socially. He shouldn't be put in homeschooling but, at the same time, it might be best for him. Not to mention the fact that a lot of the students here are just so mean to him."

"We try to save him from the Socs. I mean the bullies," I said, quickly correcting myself. Most adults didn't know about the social warfare and if they did, they pretended they didn't. They knew that the poor people and the rich people fought a lot but that was it. Socials and greasers didn't exist to many of them.

She smiled lightly. I could tell even though I wasn't looking at her. "I'm aware of the social situation. It's a shame all you boys have to grow up around that. Greasers versus Socs. I've been in this school long enough to watch that grow. The Socs really give him a hard time. I figured a lot of the greasers would, too, but I've noticed how loyal you boys are to the people in your groups. They all take up for him a lot. They protect him even though I'm sure Pony can't tell you their names. Nobody talks to him except for you and your friends really unless they're bothering him. But those boys will protect him which is something I really love to see. He's such a sweet boy and I wish everybody saw that."

I sighed. I felt the same way. I knew that other greasers had his back. Greasers are loyal. Hoods are, too. We could fight with each other one day but the next we'll fight for them. It's just the way things are. Pony had been through so much. I thought that the Socials would leave him alone. I didn't think anybody could be so cruel to put the kid through more than he had already been through. I realized I was wrong his first day in school. "Poor kid," I mumbled, looking away from Pony. It hurt more to look at him because I knew what he was going through more now than I did before. He was hiding stuff from us and there was no doubt in my mind that hiding everything was only making things worse for him. No wonder the kid wasn't getting any better. What else could he possibly be hiding?


	3. Chapter 3 - Death's Promise

I heard Darry's voice before I saw him. I had heard him jogging down the hall. His heavy footsteps were unmistakable as it was - even more so when he was in a hurry. "How's Pony doin'?" he asked, probably before he even stepped into the room.

"Still out cold," I sighed, not turning around. It had been about thirty minutes since I had called Darry and there hadn't been any change in Pony. He still laid in bed and was letting me stroke his hair as he slept. He groaned a few times and made some incoherent mumbles in his sleep.

"Hello, Darry," the nurse said politely, standing up and shaking his hand.

"Hello," he said but he was distracted by Ponyboy. He could only focus on his sick form as he lay there. He knelt down next to the bed and I moved away slightly so that he could see his brother. "I should've noticed that he was feelin' sick, huh, Two?"

"Nah," I said, waving my hand to push aside what he thought. I should've noticed it, too. We all should've. But he was keeping things from everybody and that made it very difficult. "He's been keepin' lots from us, Dare."

"Like what?" he asked, rubbing Pony's cheek with his thumb lightly. He stood up straight and turned back to me. I nodded towards the nurse, telling him that she would explain. I had to wake the kid up so he could go home.

The nurse explained to Darry what she had explained to me. I slid my arm behind Ponyboy's back and pulled him up into a sitting position so that I could shake him gently, trying to coax him awake without needing much force. He stirred and moaned lightly, trying to bury his face into something. It happened to be my shoulder that he hid his face in. I smiled down at him even though he wasn't looking at me. Darry caught a glimpse of it while the nurse talked and I could tell he forced the smile I saw on his face. He probably wasn't very happy about hearing that his baby brother was having constant panic attacks that he kept hidden from the rest of us. "C'mon, kiddo," I whispered, turning my attention back to waking up my friend. "You gotta get up, little man."

"Where's Darry?" he mumbled, still half-asleep. He didn't make any effort to lift his body up on his own. I was still keeping him sitting up.

"He's here, Pone. Ready to go home?" I asked, knowing he probably wanted Sodapop and his bed so he could sleep. He would rarely sleep without Sodapop there with him. He was probably scared of the nightmares.

"Mhmmmm," he sighed sleepily, nudging his face further into my shoulder. I could tell that it was taking nearly all of his energy to stay awake.

"You gonna throw up, kiddo?" I asked when I saw his face contort in pain. He only nodded as his face grew paler. I pulled him out of bed and to the trash can where he emptied his stomach violently. The nurse and Darry were both beside us in an instant, having saw us rushing to the trash can. I could feel his heated skin against my own and I worried that his fever was getting worse. But there was something off about him. I could tell that something was wrong. I just didn't know what it was yet.

Darry started talking to Ponyboy in a soft voice, trying to ease him. "It'll all be over soon, honey," he was saying. "I know it hurts but it'll be over soon. Then we can go home and you can sleep this off. It's okay, baby. Deep breaths, deep breaths."

***Ponyboy's POV***

No, Darry, it isn't okay, I thought bitterly as I spit up the rest of the bile in my stomach. I knew what was going to happen and I was having conflicted feelings on it. I saw him following me. He was at every track practice. He was there when I got to school and when I left school. He was stalking me and my every movement. He was always there whenever I left the house and that scared me to death. I didn't want to leave but I knew I would have to. I wasn't made for the real world. The men who first took me changed me so I could only survive in the basement with constant abuse. It wasn't the life I was born to live but it was the life these men gave me. I was stuck with it whether I wanted it or not. Frankly, I didn't want it. I wanted to be able to have my brothers and my friends and live my life the way I was meant to live it. I wanted to be a normal kid. Teenager, I suppose, since I was fourteen years old. I was meant to live the life of Darry and Sodapop's kid brother. Ever since I was ripped away from my family I was a mere shadow of the boy I used to be.

This man would either demand me to get into the car or he would force me to get in the car. No matter what I decided to do, he'd get his way in the end. I could willingly get in the car for him or I could turn and run. He'd chase me. He'd track me down. There would be nowhere I could hide. Not to mention the fact that I couldn't outrun a car. There was also a possibility that he would just take me and force me into the car before stealing me away. Whatever he decided to do, I knew I should probably go along with it the easy way instead of putting myself through more pain. There was no use in trying when I knew I was going to fail. The question was if I wanted to fail or not.

I didn't know what I wanted to do. I didn't know if I wanted to go or if I wanted to stay. I really would hate to lose everything I had gained during my time back but I also knew that I wasn't meant for the real world. It was so confusing for me and it was driving me crazy. I wanted to die. That was something I knew I wanted. I didn't want to exist in the world. I wished I was never born. There was so much that was wrong with my life that it was incredible I was still even trying to fight it. I think the only reason I was fighting was for my brothers. We had all lost our parents. They lost me for nine years before that. I didn't want to make them lose me after losing them. I knew that would probably drive Sodapop over the edge. That would leave Darry alone who I know would soon follow. Then there goes the rest of our gang. Like dominoes we'd all fall down. I wasn't worried about that if I was taken. If I was missing, there was no indication on whether I was alive or not. Nobody would risk the chance of me being alive. They wouldn't hurt themselves unless they knew I was dead.

I knew what I deserved. I knew I deserved to be chained up. I deserved to be beaten, raped, and sold. That's all I was good for. I made them a lot of money and I was a quick and easy way for them to get their anger out without ruining their lives. If they were angry about somebody they had come across, they'd take it out on me. Stuff like that. That's all I was good for. I wasn't good for anything else. It didn't matter what I thought was going to happen. It didn't matter what I wanted the outcome to be. What mattered was what I deserved and I reserved the worst I could possibly get.

I had been getting sick a lot easier those past few months. I was overthinking way too much and it was getting to me. I was so scared and so worried. Everything was taking a bad toll on my body. I didn't mean for it to have that bad of an affect on me but it was inevitable. I was always getting sick. Sometimes I would go a few days without eating or sleeping. Sometimes I would push myself too far in track. That wasn't why I was as sick as I was, though. I had woken up with a fever and I was a little dizzy and sick to my stomach but that was a normal, everyday thing. I was as sick as I was because of the Socials. The Socials thought it would be funny to shove some pills down my throat and make me swallow. I was high. I wasn't high enough to overdose or something crazy like that but I was high enough to feel the affects. I knew I wasn't acting like my normal self, and I couldn't stop myself no matter how hard I tried. They cornered me in the janitor's closet going into third period and beat me real bad before they made me take the pills. Gym was right after third period and before lunch. I had a good tolerance from drugs while I was in the basement but I guess things could change because I knew just a few pills wouldn't have made me feel that fuzzy. I couldn't ignore it no matter how hard I tried.

I hated what I was doing to my brothers and the gang by suffering so much. I was waking up late in the night with nightmares when I did decide to sleep and when I didn't decide to sleep I made them even more worried because I would fall asleep so easily. I could be eating dinner and I'd fall asleep in my chair. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night running to empty my stomach. I would wake Soda up with my moving and I would have to convince him that it was just a nightmare. That was believable enough. He never questioned it. I couldn't bring myself to talk about anything of importance. I knew they were getting frustrated. I didn't blame them. They wanted to help me but I couldn't be helped. I didn't want to drag them down with me but they made it impossible not to. I had ruined their lives and no matter how hard I tried to fix it, what was done was done. Everybody was so worried about me and I couldn't stop them. I had lost all the weight I had gained back the first few weeks after I was found. I heard the gang and my brothers talking about it a lot. I looked sick and they were debating on whether or not they should send me to the hospital. What good would a hospital do? It was pointless to me.

Running was the only thing that was keeping me sane. The only reason I haven't had a complete mental breakdown was because I was able to let my emotions out somehow through track. I've learned from the gang that they let their steam out in different ways like a drag race or a fight. I wasn't that type of person. I let my emotions out through running. I ran during school for gym or my free periods. Sometimes I skipped lunch so I could take a few extra laps if the Socials gave me a particularly hard time that day. I skipped lunch a lot. I would run before school if I wasn't physically exhausted. I would take runs during the day. I couldn't make myself stop running even though I knew it was getting unhealthy. I had built up lots of muscles from running. My arms weren't as strong as my legs were but I was still getting muscle from running and pumping my arms as I ran. In track I also did hurdles and I would throw disks so that helped my muscles. We lifted weights in track which helped to make up the lack of muscle I had in my arms. My legs were still incredibly stronger. I enjoyed running. It was fun and my way to keep myself from exploding. I was running from my problems without running away from them completely. It was as if I was running away from something in one room. I could run along the walls all day long with the impression that I was running away from whatever was chasing me but in all reality I was enclosed with it and the second I stopped, it'd get me. That's what running was to me.

Not only did I find comfort in running, but I found comfort in reading and writing. I could get lost in somebody else's story for hours and forget about my own. It was their world when I was reading. Mine doesn't exist. I was a mere spectator. I wasn't a pawn of my own story nor was I the creator. I was only watching. That's how I felt with movies, too. Writing was fun for me because I could create a whole new world without even leaving my bed. I could create a better life for me if I wanted or I could create somebody who could relate to me and my experiences. I could do or be anything I wanted as long as I wrote it on paper or kept it in my mind. I was also a dreamer which helped with my writing.

Of course I couldn't tell him absolutely any of that so I just let him comfort me. I let him tell me it was going to be alright even though I knew it wouldn't be. I let him rub my back because I was too tired to flinch. I was too out of it, too, because of those stupid pills the Socials made me take. I felt more relaxed but I contributed that to the fact that I could barely think clearly. I didn't want to flinch so that wasn't exactly a problem to me but just the fact that I was too confused and tired to flinch worried me. I wondered what they gave me to feel like that. I didn't like it.

I looked up at Two-Bit briefly just to see him staring at me with sad eyes. I looked down quickly, not wanting to see the emotions he held. He was my buddy and worried about me just as much as my brothers did. He did so much for me even though he was just a friend. He was an older friend at that. He was eighteen while I was fourteen. He shouldn't even want to associate with me but he was always trying to get me to do things with him. He was a great buddy. He made me want to laugh a lot though I always kept it to myself. I really did like his comfort. He wasn't as big as Darry but he was still very big and intimidating yet he was nearly as gentle as Sodapop was. Darry was mainly protective. Sodapop was more of the comforting brother. Two-Bit was like a mixture of the two of them. I liked him and his comfort real well. I felt like I could disappear in his arms because they were so strong yet soft at the same time. It was rare to see Two-Bit get soft with me. He tried to act like I was normal. He tried to act like I was just another member of the gang. Of course, he'd get serious if something was really wrong or something like that but for the most part he was his normal self around me. His worries came out when he thought I couldn't hear him.

After kneeling on the floor for a few minutes, the entire moment passed. I lifted my head again and looked up at my oldest brother. My protector. "I'm okay now. Home?" I asked, hoping Darry would take me home. I wanted to lay down and sleep. I was exhausted. I hoped I could sleep off the drug but the sleep I had gotten in the nurse's office didn't make me feel better at all.

"Yeah, little buddy," he said, helping me to my feet yet keeping an arm around my shoulders to keep me standing up somewhat straight. "Let's go home."

The three of us walked out to the parking lot after Darry said goodbye to the nurse and signed me out. Since Two-Bit was eighteen, he signed himself out. None of the ladies in the office said anything about him leaving school. I knew they would normally try to get him to stay in school when he signed himself out because they didn't want him to fail a grade again. He failed his junior year so he was repeating his eleventh grade year while I was in tenth grade. While me and Darry went to the truck, Two-Bit was tracking down Steve and his car. I climbed into the truck and buckled my seat belt before laying my head against the cold window. It felt good on my burning body. Darry had tried to help me into the car but I refused. I knew I needed to stop depending on my brothers. I wouldn't be around much longer. I'd disappear and I would never see them again. That was just a fact of life for me.

"Sorry, Dare," I whispered once we were both comfortable in the car while we waited for our friends to come so we could leave. I turned to look at him when I apologized so he could see I meant it.

"Don't be sorry, kiddo," he said, starting the car as our friends came into view. We watched them get into their car before Darry drove out of the school's parking lot with Two-Bit and Steve behind us. "Why didn't you tell us 'bout your fever? Two said you were runnin' one before track."

"I didn't want to upset you," I admitted quietly, curling up a little bit in my seat. I didn't want them to find out about anything. I didn't want them to worry about me. I wondered what their life would be filled with when they didn't have to watch me over their shoulders to make sure I was okay. I figured their life would get real boring.

"What about your panic attacks in school? Or what about how often the Socs mess with ya?" he asked, glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes. I don't think I was meant to see him look at me but I already saw it. They all were usually looking at me as if they were expecting to see me vanish before their eyes. I guess they weren't wrong for assuming that that would happen. Maybe they could feel it in the air, too. Maybe they felt his eyes prying into our home; following us whenever we did anything.

"I...I..." I started but I couldn't finish. I couldn't answer him. I didn't have an answer to give him. I couldn't say that it was because I was waiting for the man to take me again. I couldn't say that I didn't want to be more stress than I'm worth. I couldn't say that I wanted to see them start to live their lives for them and not for me. There was no right answer to give him so I chose silence. He sighed and I immediately worried that he was angry with me. Even though I knew my brother would never harm me, he was still very big and intimidating. That alone was enough to scare me if he was angry. But I was more concerned with the fact that I upset him, whether it was sadness or anger didn't matter. I hated upsetting anybody. I didn't want to make them angry or sad or worried. I wanted them to be happy. I wasn't worth the problems I caused any of them. I figured he was mad at me because I was keeping so much hidden from him. I wouldn't blame him if he was but I couldn't help but hope he wasn't.

"We need to know this stuff, Pone," he said, his voice sounding forced as if he was trying to keep back his yelling. Looking back, I know he wasn't angry. He was worried. He was terribly worried. He was lost, too. After all the time that I had been back, he still had no idea how to handle me. He was keeping an eye on Sodapop just fine. Those two rarely argued and neither ever really had a problem with the other. Darry was a great brother and guardian for Sodapop. They grew up together. They knew exactly how the other one was. The same couldn't be said about me. Maybe we all got along but neither of them knew how to handle me, especially Darry. Sodapop could to a certain degree but I was hopeless. Nobody could help me. Darry was always so cautious, like he wasn't sure what to do or say. I could see the debate in his eyes a lot. He debates with himself if he should offer me words of comfort or if he should just hold me and hope for the best. "It's our job ta help ya get better, kiddo, and honestly, you're gettin' worse."

"Sorry," I whispered, sliding down further in my seat. I was hating myself horribly for every single thing I've ever did in my life. I hated myself for not dying in the basement the most. That would've made things so much more simpler. They all knew how to live when I wasn't around. It seemed that me coming back stopped their lives just because I didn't know how to live. It wasn't fair for them. I was a burden.

"Like I said; don't be sorry. Just...can ya try to be more open with us? Any of us?" he asked, his voice sounding desperate.

"I'll try," I mumbled, letting my heavy eyelids close by themselves. I was still awake but I was awful tired.

"How 'bout ya try now? How're ya feelin'?" he asked. I felt his eyes on me even though my own were closed. It wasn't hard to tell when he was staring at me. It made me physically uncomfortable. Not only him, of course. I got like that when anybody was staring at me. Him, Soda, Johnny, the man following us a few cars back.

"Promise me something first?" I asked, not even realizing I was going to say what I was going to say. Of course I knew I was going to say it but I don't think I processed the idea just yet or else I wouldn't have said anything.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Can you promise..." I trailed off, licking my lips to try to get some moisture on them. I hadn't realized how dry they had become so suddenly. "Promise that you won't get mat at me for what I'm gonna say?"

"I promise," he said, his voice genuine. I knew he meant it. Darry never broke a promise. He always kept his word. He always had such an honest tone to his voice when he was talking to me. It was hard not to trust something he, or anybody, said. They all seemed to be extremely honest with me. I suppose they were just trying to get me to open up to them. It wasn't working. It had been many, many months since I had been found. Nothing changed. I was still the scared kid I was when they found me. I was the scared kid that had no idea how to survive.

"I feel like shit," I admitted and immediately tensed at the realization of what I said. Like I said, I hadn't processed that that's what I was going to say. I didn't mean for it to happen but it forced its way out. I swore out loud for probably the first time in my life. Nothing else fit how I felt, though. I said I'd try to be more open and that's what I was doing. I was trying for Darry's sake, not mine. I would have preferred to keep everything to myself but I figured if I told Darry a little bit and made him think I was telling him a lot more than I was, maybe he wouldn't be as worried as he was. I honestly felt like crap. I felt horrible. I felt like I was dying and I wouldn't exactly mind that. I would never say that to my brother, though, so saying I felt like crap was the next best thing. I just felt so sick.

To my surprise and relief, Darry only laughed. "I ain't gonna get mad at ya for cursin'," he said and I felt my body relax completely. I actually smiled a little bit, too, and I didn't force myself to. I guess I felt like my brother was proud of me. I really enjoyed feeling accomplished. I loved when I made them proud. It never lasted long so I tried to cherish the moments. "We all swear. I don't mind if you say a few swear words. Hell, you can throw in a swear word after every word an' I wouldn't care, as long as you're talkin'."

I wanted to cry when he said that because I knew it was only a matter of time before he stopped hearing me talk completely. I'd be gone and he wouldn't be around to hear me speak, cry, yell, swear, nothing. I'd just be gone from his life like I was four years old again. I'd return to not existing to the world outside of my own little personal hell. It was going to happen soon. I could feel it. I could tell by the impatient look in his eyes and the sadistic smile he'd give me when we made eye contact. It was going to happen any day and I wanted to say goodbye but there was no way to do that. I knew I would be gone within a few weeks of being taken away again. I knew my body wouldn't be able to handle it again. I'd die. First the life would drain out of me mentally. Then my body would follow.

I was walking around with a bounty on my head. I had a promise of death and there was no escape. All I could do was bide my time and hope my brothers would be okay when I was gone.


	4. Chapter 4 - Makes Me Feel Odd

I felt him watching my every movement. He was parked down the street from my house, where he usually parked. Nobody ever suspected anything because there were plenty of cars parked on the streets, especially on our side of town. He sat there and watched me. It seemed like he was obsessive. He was always there. Him, not anybody else. That was strange to me and I couldn't understand why he was as obsessive as he was. I could understand if there were different people watching me but this was only one guy. All day he was there. He must've really wanted to hurt me if he gave up his life for months just to make sure that when he tried to steal me away, he'd succeed.

I felt unnerved by his presence as I always did but there was nothing I could do to stop him from following me. He was going to be there and I just had to accept it. Instead of worrying too much about him I decided to worry about going to sleep. I felt so worn down and it was hard to think straight. It felt as if I was floating instead of walking. I hated the high feeling I had. I guess it was more than just a feeling like I was high since I really was high, but it still bothered me. I wanted to feel secure on my feet. I walked up the steps to the porch and right inside my house, never turning around. I tried to ignore the wave of dizziness that hit me as I walked up the stairs.

"What're you guys doin' home?"

I looked up in shock at the sound of a new voice but relaxed when I saw Dallas. I actually felt like smiling with him there. Me and him had been able to connect in a way nobody else knew about or could ever imagine. We could sit there and tell each other stories about our pasts. For once, we both put down our walls. He doesn't act tough when it's just me and him. I swear he almost started crying once or twice. I would ask him to tell me a different story and he would agree as long as I talked to him about something as well. I loved hearing about his gang from New York. I loved hearing about the people he once considered family. I didn't like the fact that he had been through all that he had been through but hearing about it was a way to see the world without ever leaving. I also really enjoyed the fact that I was, in a way, helping Dallas. I noticed throughout the first few weeks of our talks he had calmed down a lot. He didn't seem as angry and as hateful as he used to. But he kept up his wall around everybody else, except for maybe Johnny. He didn't talk to Johnny like he talked to me but he has told me that he felt at ease around him. I really loved the softer side of Dallas. He hugged me once. A real hug. I let him, too. That was something I don't think I'll ever forget.

"Ponyboy's sick," Darry answered. Dallas looked at me with concerned eyes but it was well-hidden by boredom. I could still see it, though, and I knew that that's how he meant it. He wanted me to see that he was worried but he didn't want Darry to see. He didn't want to look any less tough in front of the gang. He was Dallas Winston. He had a reputation.

"That sucks," Dallas shrugged, eyeing me a little longer before turning back to what he was previously doing, which wasn't much. He was only watching TV. It was funny to me to see a tough hood like Dal watching TV. It never seemed like he sat down and relaxed long enough to get entrapped by a show on TV or a movie or something. He was always tense and on the move or waiting for something bad to happen. I hated that he had trained himself to always be prepared for something horrible. Seeing him relax like that was a nice surprise. I bet they all probably felt the same way about me.

"Hey, Dal," I said quietly, walking over to sit on the couch. I couldn't stand any longer or else my legs would give out. The wave of dizziness hadn't subsided just yet.

"Hey, kid," he said, giving a nod of acknowledgment without turning to look at me. He did, however, peak at me out of the corner of his eyes. He was checking to see how sick I was because I knew he didn't want to ask. He didn't want to seem concerned or interested. I don't think he realized that the gang knew how much he cared about all of us, not just me and Johnny. Though, I have to admit he cared a little bit more about the two of us. We were more vulnerable than the rest. Johnny could handle himself in a fight but he was vulnerable emotionally because of the lack of love he had from his parents. I found it difficult to hate anybody but I could hate his parents. I hated Johnny's parents so much.

"Bed," Darry said simply, standing in front of me. He said it in a demanding way but I could see how gentle he was being. I knew I should've went to lay down in bed since I was sick but I didn't want to. I wanted to lay on the couch. I didn't want to be alone.

"Aw, c'mon, I just sat down," I complained, making everybody grin. I didn't mean to get mouthy or anything like that but it was so hard to stop myself when I wasn't thinking completely straight. I didn't whine much because I was scared of punishments. I knew I wouldn't get punished at all by the gang but the fear was still there, no matter how hard I tried to push it away. I had come around a few times and joked with them a bit but it never lasted long. I couldn't help it that day, though, because of the Socials. I couldn't hate them but I really didn't like them. They always gave me a hard time.

"You missed 'im gettin' sassy today," Two-Bit said, coming in the house with Steve following right behind him. I had forgotten that they were following us home. Two-Bit's eyes were proud. Their eyes always got proud when I did something that showed a little bit of progress. Me getting sassy was progress to them. I couldn't disagree with that.

"Oh yeah?" Darry questioned, raising one eyebrow the way they all learned to do. Two-Bit had started that epidemic.

"I said he looked like shit and he said, and I quote, 'Always the charmer.' So then I asked if he's gettin' mouthy on me and he said, again and I quote, 'It's impossible not to.' Y'all missed it. He got mouthy."

"Aww, you ain't miss nothin'," I mumbled, embarrassed from the attention Two-Bit had brought upon me. I knew he just really wanted to talk about it. They always made a big deal about something if I showed even a little bit of progress. I felt like a child when they did that but it was okay. I liked it sometimes.

"Aw, kid, lighten up," he said, poking at my chest and stomach.

"Be niiiice," I whined, swatting his hand away and curling up on the couch. I wrapped my arms around my knees and laid my head down on the couch cushion. I curled up a lot because it made me feel more comfortable both physically and mentally.

"Is somebody a wittle tired?" Two-Bit teased in a baby voice. I only nodded. Normally I would've just shrugged or ignored him but I really was tired. "Does baby want a bottle?"

"You're the one who needs a bottle, Two," I whispered, already half-asleep. I moved closer to Dallas so I could lay my head in his lap. Like I've mentioned, I wasn't thinking clearly. Normally I wouldn't do that to anybody, especially not Dallas. I would lay my head in Sodapop's lap sometimes. It was mainly only him. I've done it to the rest of the gang a handful of times but I knew to never do it to Dallas. He was too tough for that. But to my surprise, he didn't protest or try to move away. I guess it was because I was the one doing it and I was sick.

"Oh? And why's that?" Two-Bit asked, his voice daring me to get smart with him. I was going to but I couldn't. I had already fallen asleep.

***Dally's POV***

I couldn't stop myself from smiling softly down at Ponyboy as he fell asleep with his head on my lap. He really must have been tired because he fell asleep quickly. "He's uncharacteristically talkative today," Darry pointed out. I heard the frown in his voice. He was worried that Ponyboy was talking more. I was, too. I wanted to know why. He seemed really off and I could tell it wasn't from him being sick.

"You look bothered by somethin', Muscles, and I doubt it's only his talkin'," I said as I absentmindedly stroked the kid's hair. He had a way of making me go soft even when he wasn't awake. He always had a suspicious yet innocent glint in his eyes. It was impossible to miss the curiosity in them, though, despite the pain he carried.

"Ponyboy is still havin' panic attacks in school. More than we know," he said, sitting in his recliner and leaning back. I frowned. He hadn't told me that. I could get him to talk to me about his panic attacks sometimes but I only knew of them from when Two-Bit, Steve, or Johnny told us that he had them. "And the Socs don't leave 'im alone."

"Aren't you supposed to watch out for 'im?" I growled, looking at Two-Bit and Steve. Two-Bit raised his hands up in defense, leaning back against the wall while Steve averted his eyes to the floor and shoved his hands in his pockets. I knew they both felt bad for not knowing what was going on and I knew I shouldn't have been angry with them but I couldn't help it.

"I do what I could do," Two-Bit said, his hands still raised in defense. "I check on 'im e'ery chance I get an' one of us get called down whenever somethin' is wrong." My anger must've still been showing on my face because he traced a cross over his heart and said, "Cross my heart. Honest."

"I thought one of us was always called down," Steve said, sitting down on the arm of the couch opposite of where I was sitting. "We really hadn't known he was havin' panic attacks without us there, an' we beat Socs heads in when they even look at 'im wrong. We do what we can. Y'all know that."

"I don't know if I should consider this 'im gettin' better or worse," Darry sighed, not giving me the chance to talk. I knew that Steve and Two-Bit were telling the truth about watching out for him but I was pissed off. I guess I wasn't angry at them. I was angry at the Socs and the men who ruined Ponyboy's life. "He isn't talkin to us 'bout anythin' but he's jokin' 'round and look at 'im. He laid his head in your lap. He swore in the car, which I thought was funny but he swore cause he was sayin' he felt like shit...what're you doin', Dal?"

I realized then that I was stroking the kid's hair. I mean I knew I was but it didn't really click to me. I stopped and let my hands fall on the couch beside me. "Nothin'," I said casually, daring them to challenge me.

"He held on to me earlier," Two-Bit said, getting my warning. "He kept leanin' 'gainst me an' all that. He seemed to want to be held today."

"That's progress, but…" Darry started but then he stopped. He didn't need to say it. We all knew what he was saying. Ponyboy was still sick and didn't tell anybody. He hadn't told us he was sick.

"Want me to take 'im to bed?" I asked Darry, wanting to break the silence. I wanted to keep Ponyboy out there with us and I knew that he would've preferred that, too, but I also knew that he was a light sleeper. He needed all the sleep that he could get. Not only because he was sick, either. I knew he didn't sleep much as it was.

"If you don't mind. If not, he can just stay out 'ere. We just can't be loud," Darry said, glancing at me and Pony for a moment.

I lifted the kid up, already knowing that he barely weighed anything. I walked slowly down the hall, trying not to disturb him at all. I laid him in his bed and pulled the blanket around him. Just when I was about to turn and leave, his eyes popped open so fast that he almost scared me. "Hey, kid," I said, rubbing his arm gently as an attempt to comfort him in case he was scared or uncomfortable. He usually was.

"Dally?" he asked, his voice weak and hoarse from him being sick and the fact that he had just woken up. He was only asleep for a couple of minutes but that didn't change anything. I messed up his hair, smiling at him.

"Yeah, kid. It's me," I said, knowing he probably couldn't see me very well. His eyes were hazy from sleep so they were probably still adjusting to be awake. He also could've still been sleeping. He would open his eyes and talk sometimes while he was still asleep. We've all seen it more than a few times. It was just normal for the kid to do that. We wondered why, of course, but we never tried to stop it. He would sleep-talk and sometimes even sleep-walk. "How ya feelin'? I heard you're sick."

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, his eyes watering with tears. I didn't mention it because I was hoping he'd tell me why without me having to ask. "You can't tell anybody though."

"What is it, kiddo?" I asked, stroking his hair again. I would do that when we were alone. I never really did it in front of the gang but I knew I had slipped up. That was okay, though. The gang knew better than to question me. Pony was such an innocent kid and he made me behave myself. That was something only Mrs. Curtis could do, but even she couldn't do it as well as he did, and he didn't even try to keep me out of trouble. He made me stay out of the cooler because I wanted to watch out for him. I wanted to make sure he was okay. I didn't want him to be left alone at all. He was a special kid. He was gentle. He was innocent. He helped me calm down just by being around me. Him and Johnnycake both did.

His eyes fluttered close but he quickly opened them again. That's when I really noticed that something was off. It was obvious before but it was more obvious then. I could tell in his eyes that there was something else making him sick. I could tell by that look in his eyes. I knew immediately why he was sick. I got angry but I did my best not to show it. He got scared of me when I was angry and I didn't want him to be scared. If he got scared then he wouldn't open up like how I wanted him to. He'd pull away from me and I hated when he did that. "Socs gave me pills today," he eventually mumbled, barely loud enough for me to hear him. But I did hear. "Made me feel high and made me sick. Forced them in my mouth. Plugged my nose so that I swallowed. I don't know why, though. It didn't make me feel good."

"Do you know what they gave you?" I asked, keeping my voice as calm and steady as I possibly could. He shook his head and I watched his eyes close again. I knew that he was falling asleep so quickly and so easily was because I was stroking his hair. It rarely ever failed to make him fall asleep. Whenever he was panicking about something, we just needed to stroke his hair for a while and it would put him to sleep most of the time, usually quickly, too. "Just sleep it off, kid. Can you do that for me?"

"I'm trying," he said with a small yawn, curling up under the covers. He held his little stuffed animal to his chest and nudged his face into the pillow. "I don't like the way that it makes me feel. Makes me dizzy. Isn't it supposed to make me feel good? I guess not, though. They were trying to hurt me. I doubt they'd give me something to make me feel good if they were trying to hurt me like they were."

"Drugs don't always make you feel good, little man," I said, rubbing his scalp with my fingers. The drugs explained why he was joking around a little bit and being clingy the way he was. I really liked when he got like that but it wasn't going to last if drugs were the cause. I hated those Socs for putting him through more pain. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve any of it.

"Makes me feel odd," he said under his breath, looking up at me with scared and sad eyes. "Dally, my stomach hurts. It's been hurting for a few days now. It's like a really sharp pain. Right here." He motioned to his lower stomach near his right side. "It keeps getting worse."

"For a few days?" I repeated. "So before the Socs gave you anythin'?" I just wanted to clarify that it had nothing to do with the Socs. I figured he was just getting sick but I needed to make sure that the Socs didn't hurt him to cause that pain. He nodded, shutting his eyes again. "I wish you talked a lot like this when you're sober."

He didn't say anything for a few minutes so I just figured he fell asleep. I pulled my hand away from his head and stood up. As I turned to leave, I heard him talk. He spoke with the weakest and softest voice I've ever heard from him. From anyone. "Me too."


	5. Chapter 5 - He Won't Be Okay

***Two-Bit's POV***

"Fuckin' no-good, rotten, dirty-ass Socs," Dallas cursed from down the hall. I looked down to where he was and saw him walking away from Ponyboy's room looking angrier than I had seen him in a long while. I had noticed that he stopped getting mad as often as he used to. I think that it was because of Pony. Pony kept him from getting worked up the way he had for years. "Fuckin' forcin' pills down his fuckin' throat. He's just a fuckin' kid. What the fuck?"

"Huh?" was all I could say. If Dallas was mad, Darry was livid when he heard what Dally said. Dally said that Socs forced pills down Ponyboy's throat. He was high. I shook my head. I knew I just misheard him. Why would the Socs do that? It didn't make sense.

"What did you just say?" Darry asked, standing up from his seat on the recliner. He had his fists clenched and he looked like he was ready to kill somebody. I did not want to be on the receiving end of that fist.

"You heard what I fuckin' said, man," Dallas snapped. I thanked god that Darry knew Dallas Winston enough to know that he snapped at everything when he was ticked. It wasn't anything against Darry. Dallas was just mad. Darry knew how to keep his head when he was mad or else I have a feeling he would've flattened him with one hit. "He's high as shit. Don't know how the fuck nobody noticed. He don't even want me fuckin' tellin' anybody but he is fuckin' high!"

Dallas turned to glare at me and I paled. I was the one with him when he got sick. I should've been the one who noticed that he was high. Dally was going to kill me. I nearly panicked. "I swear, I had no idea," I pleaded, though that probably wasn't the best thing to say. Me not knowing was what had him angry in the first place. "The kid always looks high cause he always looks scared. He always has that look in 'is eyes when he's scared. Ya know that, Dal. When I saw Socs botherin' 'im I scared 'em off like always. I knew somethin' was up with 'im but I just didn't know what it was."

"Last things he needs is fuckin' drugs with all the drugs he's had," Dallas muttered to himself, turning away from me with a final glare.

"Mind repeatin' that loud enough for the class to hear?" I said, staring straight at him. I was only adding fuel to the fire. He was already planning on killing me. I don't know how to do anything other than joke, though. I was scared shitless of him at the moment but I couldn't stop myself from getting smart and joking.

He obviously wasn't expecting anybody to hear him but he failed to remember, I guess, how loud he is when he's mad. "What, Mathews?" he snapped. Ouch. Last name.

"You heard," I said, trying to hide my shaking hands. He was going to hit me so hard I'd need a hospital. I could tell from all that hatred in his eyes. Dallas Winston hated me at that moment. I couldn't blame him. I should've noticed that something was wrong with Ponyboy. Well, I did notice, but I should've known what it was. I looked over at Steve. He was staring at us with wide eyes. Nobody back-talked Dallas Winston.

Darry was watching us and then focused specifically on Dally. "Is my brother on drugs?" he snarled, taking a step closer to Dally. If Pony was on drugs and Dallas kept it to himself, well, then he should be the one scared. Not me.

"No," Dallas snapped, obviously annoyed. "They shot 'im up with fuckin' drugs, Darrel. You should fuckin' know that. He has the fuckin' scars to prove it."

They shot him up with drugs? The Socs? I thought back to seeing Ponyboy's body. He wore sleeves most of the time, but I had seen his arms. He had scars everywhere so he usually kept a lot of clothes on. I never put too much thought into what caused what scar. But the more I remembered his body, the more scars I could picture. He had plenty by his veins - right where you'd inject a needle. The whole reality came crashing down on me. It wasn't the Socs who shot him with drugs. It was the men from the basement. That seemed like information we should've known. Maybe Darry and Sodapop knew. Maybe I had known at a point but I forgot. Maybe nobody knew and Dallas was the only one smart enough to realize the truth. I knew he had been on drugs when he was in the basement, but I guess I never thought that they were shooting the drugs into his system.

I watched Darry come to the same realization as me only seconds later. So he hadn't known or he forgot just like me. Whatever the case was, he was shocked by the news. "God dammit. What the hell?"

"That was so long ago, though, so the little bit of drugs he got today shouldn't do anythin' right?" I questioned, looking only at Dallas. I knew he didn't do drugs but he was around plenty of people who did. None of us ever got into drugs. We didn't see the point. Alcohol was the only drug we messed with. Cigarettes, too, if anybody counts those as drugs. Drugs messed with the mind too much. We didn't like that.

"It might," he shrugged, still looking ticked. I motioned for him to explain himself and he sighed but complied. "His body might've been addicted. We don't know. He got used to not havin' drugs in 'im, though, so even if he was addicted maybe this won't affect 'im. But maybe the little he had can get 'im to want more or somethin'. It depends on the person."

"Did he tell you anythin' 'bout them givin' him drugs?" Darry asked and I knew he wasn't referring to the Socs. He was trying hard to stay calm but it wasn't working well. He looked like he was about to snap. I really didn't like the tension that was in the room at the moment. Another quick glance at Steve told me that he agreed. I didn't need to look at him to know that, though. Steve didn't usually sit quietly. He was just being smart at that moment. He knew staying quiet was best for him.

"You know that even if he did I wouldn't tell ya nothin' so quit tryin' ta ask," Dallas all-but-yelled. He went from being angry at me to being angry at Darry. For months, ever since Dallas and Pony got closer, he's been trying to figure out what it was that they talked about. We knew they talked but we couldn't guess what they could be talking about that would make Dallas look calmer and actually somewhat nice sometimes. Dallas wouldn't ever say what they talked about. We were lucky to get out of him that they talked at all. When Darry kept questioning Dallas, he started snapping at him to knock it off because he said he was tired of repeating himself all the time. Dallas was loyal just like we all were. If something was meant to be a secret, he usually kept a secret. Except for the pills that the Socs gave Pony, I guess. He mentioned that Pony didn't want him to tell us. If something was serious he'd tell us. Talking about memories isn't something that needs to be shared.

"I need to know what's goin' on with my fuckin' brother," Darry snapped back, speaking just as loudly as Dallas. I worried that they were going to wake the kid up from all the yelling. Darry must have been mad to be swearing. He usually didn't because he knew his parents didn't like that. Even when they were gone he tried to respect their authority.

"Then ask 'im your-fuckin'-self cause I ain't talkin'!"

"Dare," I said, putting my hand up to stop him from shouting whatever he was getting ready to shout. It was time to step in between those two before they started fighting. The situation was going to get out of control sooner rather than later. "How would you feel if you told somebody somethin', expectin' it to stay in between you an' that person, an' then they turn 'round and tell someone else?" Before I gave him the opportunity to answer, I continued. "I might be wrong here but I think Pony talks to Dal 'bout stuff that's happened." I left out the part where I believe that Dallas was doing the same thing. I knew that if I even hinted at the idea that he was opening up, he'd knock me out with one punch. "It's best he at least talks to someone. I don't know how he'll handle it if somebody betrays his trust but I can't imagine he'll be okay with it."

Darry glared at Dallas once more before going into the kitchen. He probably knew I was right but was still angry so he had to leave before he continued the small argument those two were having. After a moment in the kitchen, he walked down to his room and I heard the door slam shut. Me, Steve, and Dallas all sighed. None of us have been exactly the same since Ponyboy had been found. Darry was extremely protective over both of his brothers. Nobody could blame him. Steve wasn't as hateful. I was more responsible. Sodapop was more sensitive. Johnny was braver. The biggest surprise was Dallas, though. He was softer. He was more gentle with everybody but more gentle with Ponyboy in particular. There was a reason he was keeping everything with Ponyboy a secret. As much as I wanted to know what they talked about, I knew it was good for both of them to have that type of relationship with each other. I wasn't going to be the one to jeopardize that. I'd be lying, though, if I said I wasn't jealous.

"Dal, I ain't gonna question ya 'bout what ya know 'bout Pony," I started off saying and he looked at me, agitation written clear on his face, "but tell me one thing."

"What?" he said shortly.

"Ponyboy...will he be okay?"

The annoyance was replaced by a look of sadness, but he quickly covered it back up with his original anger. It was too late, though. I saw the sadness and it said everything to me. Dally didn't think Ponyboy would be okay and I knew Dallas would be right. He knew the most about Ponyboy and he was the smartest out of all of us. He knew a lot of things about people. He's seen a lot. "He'll be fine," Dallas snapped before leaving the house, slamming the door behind him. I guess nobody cared that Ponyboy was asleep just down the hall.

I felt like I had been slapped in the face. I was so worried about the kid. He was only fourteen. He shouldn't have to suffer as much as he did. I looked at Steve who rubbed his temples, a sign that he had a headache, and walked out the house. At least he didn't slam the door. I heard him get in his car and drive away. He was probably going to the DX to work since he wasn't in school. I only sighed before walking down the hall. I opened Ponyboy's door quietly, hoping I didn't disturb him. His eyes were open but I couldn't tell if he was really awake. He didn't seem very alert. I guessed the slamming doors woke him up and scared him. "Are you okay, kid?" I asked, sitting next to him. Like I expected, he didn't answer. He just kept staring at the ceiling with terrified eyes. I started stroking his hair, hoping to calm him down. His body slowly started to relax into the bed and his eyes became less fearful. They closed slightly so they weren't as wide as before but they were still open. "You don't deserve none of this, kid. I'd fix it if I could. Ya know that, don't ya kid? I'd fix it in a heartbeat."

"Two-Bit?"

His voice made me jump slightly. I wasn't expecting him to talk or move or anything. I figured he was sleeping still. But him talking didn't mean he was awake. He did sleep-talk sometimes. "Yeah, kid?" I asked, stroking his hair slower than before.

"Can you...Can you tell me a story? Something you and everybody else did while I was away?" he asked. He said away like he wasn't gone for nine years. He was more than just away. Everybody thought he was dead.

"Sure, kid, but why?" I asked. I didn't understand why he wanted to hear something like that. He had been home for months and never made any move to find out about what our lives were like before he was found. Well, nothing like that. Sometimes he'd ask about his parents or stuff like that, but nothing like this.

"So I can picture it."

I still didn't understand but I didn't want to keep asking. "What kind of story?" I asked, trying to keep my voice soft and quiet for him.

"Mmm," he said thoughtfully, shifting so he was on his stomach and basically buried under the blankets and in the pillows. He had a small, sleepy smile on his face. "Something that made you all happy. Even Johnny and Dallas."

I didn't need him to explain why he added that last part. Johnny was always scared and Dallas was always mad. There was rarely anything else that either of those two seemed to feel. Before Ponyboy came back, that is. Pony was a smart kid and didn't let the transformations fool him. He knew that even though Johnny seemed brave now he used to be terrified all the time. He knew that Dallas was always so angry. I sat there for a minute or so trying to remember something. I was trying to remember a time where everybody had fun. Then something came to me.

"Johnny's twelfth birthday," I said, smiling already at the memory. Pony smiled a bit bigger, too, and his eyes became more aware. He wanted to pay attention. "His birthday is the first of March, 'member? We celebrated it this year."

"Mhmm. I remember."

"Soda and Steve were twelve. Me and Dal were thirteen. Darry was sixteen. You were nine," I said. "Johnny was the baby at the time. Now it's you. I guess it always was you, but...Yeah. Anyways, Johnny has it rough at home, as you know. His folks didn't care if it was his birthday. None of us know if they actually remembered it or not. All of us remembered, though. We wanted to do somethin' special for him so he would feel loved. We've always cared about Johnny. We all cut class an' Darry drove us out of town to this wooded area. There was a cabin and a pond. The cabin was abandoned. We brought a whole lot of food and blankets an' went campin'. It didn't matter to us that it was daytime and it wasn't at night. We did it anyways. We risked gettin' sick by swimmin' during winter. It wasn't too bad. We only lasted a few minutes, though, cause it was really cold. But it was fun anyways. We were laughin' and runnin' over each other tryin' to run out of the pond. Tryin' to warm up sucked cause it was no warmer in the cabin than it was out of it, but we all wrapped up in our blankets and ate our food. We roasted marshmallows and had smores and told stories. Some were made up, some were true. We made up a bunch of horror stories to try an' scare each other. After a while we drove back here. Your parents, boy, were they amazin'. They knew we ditched school but they didn't even care. They were so happy and proud that we were doin' so much for Johnny. They baked a really good cake and we sang happy birthday. Your parents got 'im this really nice wool sweater. Actually, your ma made it for him. Sodapop taught 'im to ride a horse. We never let Johnny ride cause he was so fragile. That night we all sat around the livin' room and watched a movie. Johnny was curled up against Dal. Even then, Dal had a soft spot for Johnny and Johnny had a soft spot for Dally. Johnny cried that night. He said he was so happy. His eyes were lit up the entire day. He really enjoyed 'imself. We all did. We had a blast sittin' around together, out of trouble for a day. Eatin' smores and tellin' each other stories and laughin' at each other and everybody else. We did nothin' that big but it meant the world to that kid."

"That sounds...nice," Pony said under his breath. I took a moment to take a good look at him. He had tears in his eyes that he kept blinking away. I silently cursed myself for not noticing sooner than the kid was crying.

"Hey, Pone, what's wrong?"

"I wish I was here for it all is all," he said softly, nudging his face into the pillow so I couldn't see it anymore. "Johnny was lucky to have all of you there for him. I'm lucky to have you all here for me now."

"I think we're lucky to have you," I said, rubbing his back gently. His body tensed slightly but quickly relaxed again. I took that as a sign that I could keep rubbing it.

"Why do you think that?" he asked, his voice sad.

"Let's just say I haven't seen Dally stay outta trouble this long in my life," I said gently. He lifted his face from the pillow and stared at me for a long moment before smiling. Then he yawned and it was my turn to smile. "Get some rest, kiddo, 'kay?"

"'kay, Two," he said in the middle of his yawn. I pushed his hair back before he set his head back down on the pillow once more. I stood up and pulled the blanket up higher over his body. "Thank you. For the story."

I smiled at him again. He was so sweet and innocent. "Anytime, kid."


	6. Chapter 6 - Sleepin' Beauty

***Ponyboy's POV***

Everybody made it so difficult for me to accept the fact that I was leaving. Sure, I already knew it was going to happen and part of me already accepted it, but I didn't really accept it. It was going to happen but I couldn't accept the fact that I'd be living without my brothers and the gang. It didn't seem real that I was going to lose them all again. I really didn't want to but I knew it was what was best for everybody. I wouldn't let my uncertainty get the best of me. I was going to leave sooner or later whether I wanted to or not.

That's all I could think about when I first woke up from my nap with a pounding headache and heavy heart. I knew my head was pounding because of the drugs the Socials forced into my body and I knew my heard was heavy because of how much I loved the gang. I tried not to think about how much I loved them and instead focused on how relieved I was that the drugs were wearing off. I really hated drugs, aside from cigarettes. Are those considered a drug? I hated how my body reacted to those pills I had. It was like I was in the basement again but so much more aware. I shook my head, trying to get the little fuzziness clouding my brain to go away.

I groaned as I sat up in bed, holding my lower side. I had a sharp pain there that was only getting worse but I chose to continue to ignore it. I had a faint memory of telling Dallas about the pain but I wasn't completely sure if I really did that. If I did, I knew it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't tell anybody. I had a feeling he told them about the pills, though. I knew I had told him that. I was positive about that much. I wouldn't blame him if he told them that. That was something I should've told at least Darry. I sighed as I rubbed both of my temples. It didn't matter if he told them about my stomach or not if I had told him. It was tolerable.

I rolled out of bed and stumbled to the living room, my body still too tired to function properly. I was so groggy but I didn't want to lay in bed alone. I'd rather lay on the couch with everybody there to protect me. How funny of me, right? I wanted to be protected when I was already counting the days I had left. I wanted my brothers more than anything. At least Darry or Sodapop. I wanted both but I'd settle for one. I didn't and still don't know why I wanted them as badly as I did. I didn't want to stop and question it so I would convince myself that I didn't need to see them. I wanted to lay with one of them. I still slept with Scruffy. Every night. Every nap. Sometimes I would just lay in bed and hold him without sleeping. Just lay in bed and hold him there as if he was protecting me from the darkness.

I saw Darry asleep in his recliner in the living room. He looked younger in his sleep, as I'm sure everybody does. He didn't look as worn down as he did awake and he didn't look as stressed. I was grateful for that. He was only twenty. He shouldn't look and feel so old. I smiled at the sight of him and then immediately cursed myself for smiling. I didn't like smiling. I don't know why. I guess it made me feel vulnerable. I didn't see anybody on the couch so I figured Steve, Two-Bit, and Dallas all left sometime while I was asleep and Sodapop was still at work.

I stared at Darry for a moment and then I couldn't stop myself. I sat down on Darry's lap and curled my legs up. I leaned against him with my head on his shoulder. I told myself that I was too big and too old to be sitting in my brother's lap but it didn't matter to me. I nuzzled my face into his shoulder and sighed contently. This woke Darry up and he looked at me, worry covering his features. "Are you alright, Ponyboy?" he asked, sounding and looking wide awake even though he just woke up. He must've thought something was really wrong. Nothing was wrong, though. I just wanted to sleep with my brother. I nodded and closed my eyes. I felt his warm hand on my forehead and then the side of my neck. "You don't feel as hot. Did you have a nightmare? Anythin'?" I only shook my head and moved one of my hands from Scruffy in order to place it around Darry's neck. "Talk to me, kiddo. What's wrong?"

"I'm just sleepy," I said just above a whisper, pulling myself closer to him with the arm I had thrown across his neck. I really was tired. I could tell I was close to falling back asleep.

"You sure that's it?" he asked, running his fingers up and down my back lightly. I accidentally let out a gasp at the sensation because I wasn't expecting it. He stopped immediately and I wished he didn't. He whispered a sorry.

"Please don't stop," I whispered, craving for his protective yet gentle touch. He went back to doing it and I sighed in relief. It felt good and soothing like when somebody strokes my hair. I curled up more on his lap, pulling myself closer to him. I was so comfortable. I couldn't keep myself awake a moment longer.

***Darry's POV***

I woke up when I felt somebody sit down on my lap. I opened my eyes and saw my baby brother, Ponyboy, staring at me with a distant look in his eyes. "Are you alright, Ponyboy?" I asked him and he nodded. He stared at me for a second longer before closing his eyes. I felt his forehead and neck, searching for a fever. Thankfully, the fever he had earlier in the day had went down. I figured it was a low fever if he still had one. It wasn't noticeable by touching his skin. I was relieved at the lack of fever but still worried because he didn't look like he was feeling too good. Not to mention the fact that him coming to sit on my lap didn't exactly happen everyday. "You don't feel as hot. Did you have a nightmare? Anythin'?" I asked. Slowly, he shook his head side to side, keeping his eyes shut. He threw his arm around my neck and nudged his face further into the side of my neck. I noticed he was holding his stuffed animal, Scruffy, close to his chest. I was getting more worried by the second because he really didn't like being touched at all. "Talk to me, kiddo," I said gently in his ear. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just sleepy," he whispered and pulled himself even closer to me. I didn't know how he could because we felt pretty close beforehand.

"You sure that's it?" I asked, taking a chance and running my fingers up and down his back lightly. I knew that he used to like that when he was a baby and that Sodapop still liked it. Sometimes when Sodapop was really tired, he'd sit close to me on the couch and I'd do that to him until he fell asleep. It was like how Pony liked having one of us stroking his hair. It was just a sense of comfort. I was saddened when he gasped. I wasn't surprised by that, though. I pulled my hand away, thinking he gasped in fear. I was wrong, though. It wasn't fear.

"Please don't stop," he whispered in a pleading tone. Since he asked me not to stop, I continued. He sighed quietly and his already relaxed body got even less tense. He seemed really comfortable. He brought his legs closer to him and moved the rest of his body closer to me. He sighed once more and I felt him smile a little bit into my neck. That made me feel great. He rarely smiled.

"I love you, Pony," I said to him. I didn't get a response and I was sad at first until I realized that he didn't answer me because he was asleep. I looked down at his sleeping form and smiled. He seemed so peaceful. Even when he was asleep he rarely looked at ease. His body was always tense and he seemed on edge. But at that moment it looked like he was peaceful and happy. I thought about putting him back in his own bed so he could sleep a bit more comfortably than he would on my lap but then decided against it. He came out for a reason and it didn't seem right to me for me to ignore that reason and take him back to his bed. Besides, I didn't want to risk waking him up when he was sleeping that comfortably. Instead of taking him back to his room, I just relaxed back with him on my lap and, without moving my arms from him, relaxed to go back to sleep. A few minutes later, I felt my fingers slowly drift down his back but not up again as I slowly began to fall asleep.

***Sodapop's POV***

I was anxious to get home from work. When Steve came in to the station when he was supposed to be in school, I nearly lost it. He explained to me that Ponyboy was sick but he was asleep when he left. He said he didn't feel like going back to school so he came to the station to pick up an extra shift. I wanted to go back home to check on my baby brother but Steve convinced me to stay at work. He said that Darry and Two-Bit were both there to watch out for him. If they needed me, they'd come get me.

I walked in the house after Steve dropped me off and smiled immediately at the sight in front of me. Ponyboy was curled up on Darry's lap and they were both asleep. Both of them looked so relaxed and even though most of Pony's face was hidden in Darry's neck, I could see a hint of a smile on his face. He usually only smiled a little bit like that when I was holding him at night but it was extremely rare. I was usually the only one who was able to hold him and that was mainly at night. He didn't let anybody touch him much during the day. He'd flinch and pull away. But at night, when it was just me and him and it was time for bed, he'd move closer to me. That was all the invitation I needed to pull him close to me in a tight yet gentle hold. He rarely went to sleep when I wasn't there to hold him. He didn't sleep much as it was, either.

I knew that it was Darry's turn to cook dinner that night but I didn't have the heart to wake either of them. I couldn't take that peaceful look away from either of them. I decided I'd just cook a simple dinner on my own. I didn't feel like cooking much so I just made grilled cheese. I hoped that that'd be enough for the two of them. I knew it'd be enough for me since I'm the one who made it but I wondered how hungry those two would be. I figured it'd be fine for Ponyboy. He didn't eat much anyways and from how Steve described it, Pony was really sick. He wasn't so much sick as he was high, though. He said that he was throwing up a lot during gym class and Two-Bit took him to the nurse where he threw up again. Steve said three times in total. I knew Pony would either have no appetite or a slightly bigger one than normal from having absolutely nothing in his stomach. Whatever the case, Pony didn't eat much.

When I went to the living room to wake both of my brothers up, I saw that Darry had already woken up. "Mornin'," I said, grinning at him. He was running his fingers up and down Pony's back which made me smile more and made the hint of a smile on Pony's face grow into a real smile. He was still asleep, though. I loved when Darry ran his fingers up and down my back and I could see that Pony did, too. I raised my eyebrow at Darry when he turned his head to look back at me.

"He came out and sat on my lap while I was asleep," he said, answering my unasked question. "He said nothin' was wrong but I don't know. I don't know why he came out here. He fell asleep quickly, though. I gotta talk to ya 'bout some stuff."

"I already know," I said, sitting on the couch across from my brothers. "Steve explained everythin' to me. Socs got him high and he got real sick at school."

"He was sick before he went to school," Darry said. I tilted my head slightly to the side. That part was news to me. Maybe Steve didn't know or he just forgot to mention it. I got mad at myself immediately because I slept with him every night. I should have noticed that he was sick. "That's probably why he threw up so much and had a real high fever. He didn't tell us he was sick. I guess he knew he had a fever before he went to school. He told Two-Bit that at school."

"Damn," I muttered. I wished Ponyboy would get better. I wasn't sure if he was getting better or worse sometimes. He needed to open up with us more. It was frustrating to say the least but nobody blamed him. He went through a lot. We just wished we knew how to help him.

"He has lots of panic attacks an' stuff at school. He's been keepin' lots of that stuff a secret from us," Darry continued with a sigh. "He was actin' somewhat like a normal kid today. He was gettin' sassy with Two, seemed to want to be held, laid 'is head in Dal's lap, and he swore once. I don't think I ever heard him swear."

"Did he now?" I asked with a small chuckle. I couldn't picture hearing Ponyboy swore. It's something that I figured would never happen.

"He said he felt like shit but it was still somethin'. He made me promise not to get angry at 'im before he said anythin'. I think I shocked 'im by laughin'," he said with a short laugh. That sounded like Ponyboy. He was always worried that he'd do something wrong and make us mad at him or something. We could never get mad at him. He was so innocent. He was so sweet, too. He was a very respectful kid. I was a little jealous that everybody seemed to experience a different side of Pony while I was at work but I figured it was probably for the best. Pony was high while he did all that. No need to get my hopes up. It was only a matter of time before he got worse again. It always happened. I could tell that Darry was thinking the same thing by the look in his eyes.

"I made grilled cheese," I said, changing the subject before it got sad. It usually got sad whenever we were talking about Ponyboy. We hated the fact that nothing we did seemed to help him. We tried everything we could think of. "Wanna wake 'im to eat?"

"Sure," he said and stopped running his fingers up and down Pony's back. Instead, he started to gently shake Pony's arm. When that got no reaction, he shook slightly harder. "C'mon, kiddo, time to get up."

"I don't wanna," he mumbled, his voice groggy and his words slurred. I smiled, trying not to laugh. He was so adorable when he was tired. He always had been.

"C'mon, we gotta eat," Darry tried, smirking. He shook Pony a bit more. "Open your eyes, Pone. It's time to wake up."

"Not hungry. Comfy."

"Yeah, I bet you are," Darry chuckled, amusement obvious in his eyes and his voice. Pony really did look comfortable laying there in Darry's lap. I felt bad that we had to wake him up. I could tell that Darry did, too.

"Can you go back to doing that?" Pony asked sleepily. Darry started running his fingers up and down Ponyboy's back again and Pony sighed. He seemed content. Darry smiled and pushed back his hair. Since Ponyboy started wearing hair grease, he hadn't stopped. It made him look more like a greaser and he liked that. I think he liked the fact that he could fit in. If we went out in public, he didn't seem much like a timid boy. He looked a little tougher. I knew that that's what he wanted. Without the hair grease, though, he looked so young. He looked very shy and sensitive and innocent. He looked ten instead of fourteen at the moment. That made it more difficult to watch my older brother try to coax him awake.

"You gotta get up, kiddo," Darry said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"But I'm not hungry."

"C'mon, honey, Soda's here. Don't ya wanna say hi to Soda? He waitin' to see ya."

When he heard my name, he lifted his head out of Darry's neck and slowly opened his eyes. He started at me for a few moments before smiling. "Hey, Soda. How was work?"

"It was just fine, sleepin' beauty," I teased. I think he enjoyed when we teased him about things. I think it made him feel like he fit in with the gang a little bit more.

"Hmmm, that's not nice," he hummed, stretching his legs off of the side of the recliner. He went to roll off of Darry's lap but his body tensed and his eyes widened. Because of this, both Darry and I tensed, too. The little bit of color he had drained from his face and his eyes held so much pain. Not emotionally but physically. I looked at Darry and he was looking at me. I sighed. It was always one step forwards and two steps back.


	7. Chapter 7 - The Truth Finally Comes Out

***Ponyboy's POV***

I went to sit up so I could get off of Darry's lap but I couldn't. I could barely move. The sharp pain that had been in my stomach intensified so suddenly but was soon replaced with nausea. I needed to get to the bathroom in order to throw up but as I forced myself to my feet, my legs gave out and I ended up on my hands and knees. I tried to swallow my vomit long enough to make it to the bathroom but I wouldn't make it. I knew I wouldn't. It would only take moments for everything to come up. I did not have the time to crawl to the bathroom. Thank god for Darry. He understood my problem, I think, because he picked me up and carried me to the bathroom.

I started throwing up into the toilet once my feet touched the floor. I don't know how I had anything in me to bring up but I managed to spit up some vomit. Throwing up on an empty stomach was terribly painful. It hurt my chest as well as my stomach. I continued to dry heave for a while, depending on Darry to keep me on my feet. If he would have let go, I'd go crashing to the floor. My mouth tasted horrible and I was in so much pain. I started sobbing.

"Please," I begged, unable to stop myself. I was begging them to make it stop except I couldn't get the rest of the words out. Everything was so painful. I needed the pain to stop or end me. The pain only got worse as I stopped dry heaving. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, groaning and falling back into Darry's chest. I couldn't open my eyes because I was in so much pain. My sobbing grew louder and I couldn't stop it. I hated crying whether people were around or not. I didn't cry.

"Shh, honey, shh," Darry soothed, gathering me more gently in his arms. Before he had a strong grip on me so I didn't fall to the floor. Now he had me close to his chest with soft arms as if he was worried he had been the one causing me the pain.

"It hurts so bad," I cried out, trying to bite back a scream. The nausea returned to the original sharp pain but it was worse than it was a few minutes before. It was definitely worse than it had been the past few days. There was a metallic taste in my mouth and I knew that I bit my lip to the point it was bleeding. I couldn't help it, though. I didn't want to start screaming.

"Do you need a hospital?" Soda asked me and I felt his hand on my face. I could tell the difference between him and Darry. Darry's hands were more callused while Soda's were smoother. Darry's were bigger while Soda's were smaller. Darry was also a bit more rough than Soda was, but I'm not saying that he was rough at all. Just rougher.

I really didn't want to go to the hospital but I was so desperate. I was scared we'd get in trouble if they found out I was high but that was the least of my concerns at the moment. I was being selfish, I know, but it hurt so bad. Besides, as far as I knew, Darry and Soda didn't know about the pills. I had a feeling Dallas told them but they hadn't mentioned it to me yet. That was a good sign, I guess. "Yes please," I gasped out, unable to get enough air in my lungs.

"Soda, go start the truck," Darry said with a sense of urgency in his voice when I started hyperventilating. I just wanted the pain to end. Breathing like that made everything hurt worse but I couldn't stop it. My crying got louder. "Shh, baby. You're hurtin' yourself more," Darry whispered when I heard Soda sprint out of the bathroom. I had no idea at the moment how he knew that I was making the pain worse but now I know it's just common knowledge. Crying while in pain makes the pain worse. Like I said; I couldn't help it. "You gotta breathe, honey." I shook my head, trying to tell him that I physically couldn't speak no more. I'm sure if I would've forced myself then words would've come out but I couldn't force myself. "Where does it hurt? Show me." Somehow I found the strength to lift my arm and point to the lower right side of my stomach. He barely touched it but that caused so much pain that I couldn't help the scream that escaped my lips. Immediately, he was hugging me and rocking us back and forth. "I'm so sorry. Sorry, sorry. I'm sorry, Pone, shhh, it's okay. I got ya," he whispered. He sounded scared. I was scared, too.

"Darry," I pleaded, "help." I blindly grabbed ahold of his arm, accidentally digging my fingers into it. I couldn't stop myself. I needed to hold onto something. The pain was unbearable. "It hurts. Please, please, please!" My breathing got even faster and he picked me up as quickly as he could without moving me too fast. It still made me cry out in pain. He kept apologizing because every little movement caused a wave of pain up my body. I barely realized that we were suddenly in the truck and that Sodapop was speeding down the street while Darry held me in his lap in the back seat. I let out a scream again as we hit a bump in the road but I quickly covered my mouth with my own hand to keep me quiet.

"Faster, Soda," Darry commanded in a gentle yet urgent tone. Soda complied and I forced my eyes open long enough to see that his eyes were wide and his skin was pale. I vaguely told myself that that's how I looked to them all the time. I felt bad. It hurt me bad to see Soda like that. I couldn't imagine what it was like for them to see me so pale and scared nearly everyday. It must have been horrible. I still don't know how they did it.

I felt the fight in my body start to give out as the pain continued to intensify. There was nothing I could do to stop it. My breathing slowed and my sobs got quieter. The tears continued to come endlessly but I wasn't crying loud anymore. My body lost the fight against the pain and I got weaker and weaker. The pain didn't let up, though. It only got worse. I couldn't even yelp anymore. I was exhausted. "Is the pain better?" Soda asked. I could only shake my head because I was starting to fall asleep.

"Stay awake, little buddy, 'kay?" Darry said, talking very fast. I gave a small nod. I wanted to do what he said. I listened to them when they gave me a direct order. It was one of the better qualities of me. I was obedient. But I couldn't listen to him then. I tried as hard as I could but soon, I welcomed the darkness the engulfed me.

I woke up and noticed immediately I wasn't in my bed with Sodapop's arm wrapped tight around me. I started panicking. I sat up and regretted that decision instantly. I held my lower stomach and bit my lip to keep from screaming. I couldn't help the wince that escaped my throat, though. "Pony, it's okay," a familiar voice said, making me calm down a bit. I recognized it but it took me a moment to figure out who had spoken. I knew it wasn't Darry or Sodapop. I opened my eyes and saw Steve standing over me. I relaxed and laid back down. "How ya feelin', kid?"

"Tired," I admitted, rubbing at my eyes. "What's going on?"

"What all do you 'member?" he asked, sitting down in the chair that was right next to the bed I was laying in. I figured he brought it up to the bed to keep a closer eye on me.

"Pain," I mumbled. The pain was horrible. That was impossible to forget. "I passed out on the way to the hospital."

"You had an appendix attack. They had to remove it," he said. My eyes went wide and I immediately looked down at where I felt the most pain. I went to lift my gown to look at it but Steve's hand on my arm stopped me. "Relax, kid. You're okay now. You can actually go home sometime today, I think. They said whenever you really woke up."

"How long was I out?" I asked, again rubbing at my eyes. I was real tired and was still trying to wake up. I was exhausted.

"Your surgery was yesterday. It was an emergency," he said. I nodded. It was only a day. I was afraid it would've been more than that. I couldn't imagine how my brothers would have reacted if I was out cold for a few days. It'd drive them insane. "It all turned out okay. Your brothers are at work right now. Golly, it was nearly impossible to get 'em to go but Johnny was able to convince 'em."

I perked up at the mention of Johnny. I knew he hadn't gone to school the day before. Nobody told me why but they didn't need to. His dad gave him a real hard time and he was in too much pain to go to school. That happened too often for my liking. I wanted to see him. "How's Johnny? He okay? Was he here? Where is he?"

He chuckled a little at my outburst of questions. "One at a time, kid. Johnnycake's just fine. He was a little roughed up yesterday but he's a tough kid like you. He came by earlier to see if you were okay. He stayed with ya while me an' Two-Bit were at school. He's at Two's right now gettin' some rest."

I let out a breath of relief. Johnny would be okay. I was always scared that one day his father would go too far. I think the entire gang was worried about that happening, too. If I lost somebody else, I think it'd be the death of me. I shook those thoughts away. It wouldn't do me any good to over think like that. "I hate to ask," I said shyly, looking down at the blankets, "but can you please get me a drink?" I hated asking for anything. I hated being more of a bother. I was already a terrible burden. But I was really, really thirsty.

"Sure thing, kid. I'll be right back."

When he walked out of the room, I felt my stomach start to come up. I groaned as I scrambled to get out of bed and to the trashcan on the other side of the room. I had assumed that I would be okay since the problem was fixed but apparently not. I was still throwing up. I barely reached the can before I started puking. It was mainly just dry heaving but some liquids came out. That was gross. I hated throwing up with a passion. I had nothing in my stomach to really bring up. It was extremely painful just like everything else in my life. Sorry for the self-pity.

I heard the pounding of feet come down the hall but I didn't care. I wasn't paying much attention to any of them. I just wanted the pain to stop. I gripped the sides of the trashcan before I toppled over. I was really dizzy and even more thirsty than before. I felt somebody touch my back and I didn't recognize the hand. I tried shrugging it away but the person kept replacing it. I didn't want to be touched by strangers. What was odd was that I didn't mind the idea of one of the gang comforting me. But no strangers. Never strangers. "Please don't touch me," I begged when I finished puking. I pushed myself away from that person - that hand. I crawled backwards, shaking my head and squeezing my eyes shut. "Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me."

"What the hell?" I heard Steve exclaim before the unfamiliar person could say anything. I opened my eyes and saw him in the doorway. I tried to crawl over to him but I was shaking too bad. He set the cup on the ground and knelt beside me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me closer to him. I was thankful for that. He'd keep me safe. But I couldn't stop myself from crying and whimpering in fear. "What did you do to him?!"

"Steve," I cried, trying to hide behind him. He allowed me to but his arms never left my body. Normally, the gang would've let go if they ever thought it wasn't okay for them to touch me. I guess he either knew it was okay or he thought that something bad was happening and he needed to protect me. I felt like something bad was happening so I wasn't complaining. Besides, I didn't mind him holding me.

"Calm down. It's okay, you're okay," he breathed out quickly, allowing me to hold on to him and cry. "Make yourself useful and call one of his brothers, will ya?" He was snapping at whoever was touching my back. I was too scared to look and see who it was. I was expecting to see that man's face. I started crying more at the thought of him. He scared me so much. I didn't want to go with him. I couldn't handle it.

"He was throwing up. We need to get the IVs back in him," a woman said, sounding about as sorry as I felt when I heard her. I didn't mean to be so scared of a nurse. But even though I felt bad and I realized I wasn't in any danger, I was still terrified. I knew that the man was still around. I had no idea where he was but I knew he was near. I started crying harder when I thought that.

"You scared 'im," Steve snapped. He usually acted about as hateful as Dallas acted. He got snappy like that when he was either being protective or when he was genuinely mad about something. At that moment, he was being protective. He knew I was scared and he couldn't understand why so he was going to treat everything as a threat. I was thankful for that because everything felt like a threat. "Just go. I'll get 'im back in bed." After the nurse mumbled a quick apology, I heard her quiet footsteps exit the room. I couldn't relax, though. I was having a panic attack. When it was just me and Steve in the room, his arms softened from protecting to comforting. "Kiddo, look at me," he whispered. I forced myself to keep my eyes open and look up at him. I couldn't stop the tears that unwillingly flowed from my eyes. "What's got ya so scared, Pone?"

What had me so scared was that I had realized what I wished I realized months before. I couldn't handle going back to the basement, whether it was the same basement or a different one or if it was not even a basement anymore. I couldn't go back to how I grew up. I didn't want to be with them. I may have deserved it but I couldn't deal with it anymore. I wouldn't survive it. I couldn't put myself through it. I couldn't put my brothers and the gang through it. Screw it. The gang are my brothers, too. I couldn't put my brothers through anymore pain. It'd hurt even worse a second time because they had me around for so long just to lose me again. I couldn't imagine living without them even though I did so for the majority of my life. I was loved. I was cared about. I was protected. I didn't want to be back with those bad men. I wanted to be with my family. The only way I could keep myself safe was if I let them know exactly what was going on.

"I don't want to go back," I whispered, more tears running down my cheeks. "I don't wanna go back to the basement. I don't wanna."

"You aren't. You're safe," he said, but I could see in his eyes that he was scared, too. They grew colder and more alert. It was like he was willing himself to hear, see, and feel everything around us so he knew if somebody was going to come and try to take me away. His eyes also got darker as if he was remembering something horrible. He was probably thinking about what he knew that I went through or something like that. I hate to sound the way I sound right now with the way my family all cared about me but it was honestly the truth. I know I'm loved. I know I'm cared about. I couldn't deny their love. It was painfully obvious and I enjoyed it.

"No, no, no, no. I'm not safe. He's been following me. I'm scared. He's everywhere. He's going to get me. I don't want to go back. I keep seeing him whenever I leave the house. Wherever I go, he's there," I explained quickly, hiding my face in his chest as I was overcome with loud, painful sobs. I held on to him as tightly as I could, not caring if I hurt him. I feel bad now because I'm sure I probably held on too tight but at the moment I didn't realize I could've possibly been hurting him. "I don't wanna. I don't wanna. Oh my god, please, I don't want to."

"You won't havta go back," he said, his arms tightening around me. "We'll keep ya safe. Tell me where ya see 'im, Pone."

"Everywhere!" I cried. "He's probably outside the hospital right now..." I paused. "...or inside..."

"When did you start seein' 'im?" he practically demanded, pulling me from his chest and making me stare straight into his terrified and angry eyes. I knew he wasn't angry at me. I wasn't even scared that he was. I was only scared of that man.

"He was always there," I whimpered, shaking my head to try to will myself to stop crying. "He started comin' 'round the time I came home. A few weeks later, maybe."

"Why haven't you told us?" he asked, his voice just as quiet as mine.

"Cause I was scared..."

"We'll keep ya safe," he said and pulled me back in close to him. It sounded like he was trying to convince both me and himself. I hid my face back in his chest and screamed with my mouth closed. "We need ta get ya in bed. C'mon. I promise I won't leave your side."


	8. Chapter 8 - I Didn't Want It To End

***Steve's POV***

I couldn't believe what the kid told me. He said he was being watched. No wonder he wasn't getting any better. He couldn't get better with a threat like that hanging over his head. The gang and I had all talked about why he wasn't getting any better quite a few times. We couldn't figure it out. Of course we had different ideas as to why he wasn't getting any better but we couldn't really figure it out. Sometimes he'd make some progress but then he'd get worse than before, it seemed. He was so much worse than he was at first.

Ponyboy was so scared. He wouldn't let go of me, which was something I definitely didn't see often. He kept having panic attacks each time his previous attack was calming down a bit. He kept throwing up because of it. I had never seen him so scared before. The nurses tried to give him sedatives but I wouldn't let them come near him. He was scared as it was and I knew he would hate for more drugs to be in his system. I think he's had enough to last a lifetime. I was surprised that he was letting me near him like he was. I was more than near him. I was holding him partially because I wanted to help him and partially because he wouldn't let go.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't ecstatic that Ponyboy was holding on to me the way that he was.

I had to get in bed with Ponyboy because of how scared he was. He crawled under the covers and hid his face in my chest. His arms were around my stomach so I couldn't move away if I tried. I kept my arms around his upper body and held him close to me. I never saw him act like that before and I doubt anybody else had, either. I think it was the first time he even let me hug him. I never tried to hug him or anything like that like most of the gang did. I was waiting for him to come to me. I can't remember if he ever let me hug him before. All I knew was that he was so scared. Honestly, I was scared, too. Ponyboy was being watched. Somebody was stalking him and was going to try to take him away from the gang.

Over my dead body.

After about twenty minutes of him having constant panic attacks, Sodapop came running into the room. He looked about as scared as I felt. The fear on his face intensified when he saw Ponyboy cowering in my arms under the covers. He ran over to the bed. "What's goin' on? What happened?"

"He's scared to death man," I said, trying to keep my voice as steady as I could. "He woke up and started panickin' but calmed down when he saw that he wasn't alone. He asked me to get 'im some water so I left the room to get it for him an' when I came back he had thrown up and was cryin' and tryin' to get 'way from the nurse. He won't let 'em put his IVs back in. He keeps havin' panic attacks. They tried to sedate 'im but I wouldn't let 'em cause I knew he wouldn't like it cause the drugs," I explained and then I paused. I had expected Ponyboy to come out from hiding when he heard Sodapop's voice. I tried to pull the blanket away from his face but he couldn't let me. "C'mon, kid. Don't ta wanna see Sodapop?"

At the sound of Soda's name, his head shot up. I don't know why he didn't come out from the covers when he heard Soda talk but that wasn't a big priority to find out. Soda gave him a gentle, comforting smile. I swear, Soda could calm me down sometimes just from him being there. I was lucky to have him as a friend. Pony was lucky to have him as a brother. "Hey, honey," Soda said quietly, sitting next to us on the bed. Pony made no move to let go of me and go to him. I wanted to smile because he wanted me but I couldn't. I had to tell Sodapop about the man.

"Somebody is stalkin' 'im, man," I said and felt Ponyboy tense up. Thankfully, he didn't try to hide again. Sodapop's eyes widened and he went to talk but I cut him off. "He said he sees him everywhere. Said he doesn't wanna go back. I guess he knows 'im from before."

"Ponyboy," Soda whispered slowly. The kid tried to cower away but I held him still. Maybe he thought that Soda was mad at him for not saying anything about it before. But Soda wasn't mad. He was hardly ever mad and he was never mad at him. Not once had he gotten angry with Ponyboy. "Pony, baby, who is it?" he asked, looking heart broken by Pony's actions.

"Some guy," Pony said, not even trying to keep the fear out of his voice. His voice was shaking and he sounded so small and lost. I wanted to make it better but I had no idea what I could possibly say. Judging by the look on Soda's face, he didn't, either.

"Ya know 'im?" Soda asked and Pony nodded slowly. "What's 'is name? How do ya know 'im?"

"I don't know his name," Pony said, barely above a whisper. I felt the trembling in his body get worse. "He was around for a few years in the beginning. I think he was one of the guys' brothers."

If he was one of their brothers, that made everything easier. It made telling the police simpler. I looked at Sodapop and saw his hopeful eyes. He thought the same thing as me. His eyes lit up slightly. It was simple at that point. It was easy to report it and make it go away for good. "When did you first see 'im?"

"A while ago," Pony answered, looking down at the covers.

"How long ago?"

"Months," I said when I saw that Ponyboy clammed up. "'round the time 'e got home, I guess."

"Has he tried anythin'?" Soda asked Ponyboy seriously. He said it in a voice that demanded an answer. He probably did it so Pony would answer. It worked.

"Not that I know. I see him and he sees me. He knows that I know he's there. But he's never tried anything."

Sodapop looked straight at me. "That doesn't make sense," I said to him. "Why do you think he'd be 'round for so long an' not try anythin'?"

"It's only a matter of time," Ponyboy said, his voice shaking as much as his body was. We both turned our attention back to him, silently agreeing that we'd talk about that subject a little bit later when we were alone. "It's like the first time. He was always there. Except this time I know about it. I didn't know it before. At first. I never realized it. At least not until it was too late, and now I know what's going on and I still can't do anything to stop it."

Sodapop gave him a startled look when he finished his little speech. "What're you talkin' 'bout?" he asked but we both knew exactly what Ponyboy had said. He was stalked as a kid before they took him. He was being followed before we lost him all that time ago. It was the same thing but at a different time. This time he knew about it and he thought that there was nothing he could do to stop it. We'd make sure that nobody even got close to him. We wouldn't lose him again.

"I-I was just a k-kid," he stuttered. His nails began to dig into my stomach as his grip on me tightened. I didn't mind. He had one hell of a grip, though. I had to give him credit for his strength. I had no idea how he had any strength when he had no muscle. He had nothing on him. He had no fat, no muscle, no nothing. All of his muscles were in his leg. But I guess he was strong even without obvious muscles. "It never clicked to me," he continued, snapping me out of my unnecessary thoughts. "I'd see him but since I was so young...I never thought about it. After I was there for a few months I had thought about it and realized that he was always there. They, I mean. At the park, the Dingo. They were always there. They're gonna take m-me ag-gain."

"No, no, never," Soda said, reaching out to push Pony's hair back. It was still hanging over his forehead. I couldn't get over how young he looked without it greased back. He looked young to begin with but that topped it off. Ponyboy closed his eyes at the contact and Soda pulled his arm away, probably thinking that the action scared the kid, but Pony grabbed his wrist.

"No..." he whispered. We both looked at him in confusion. "Please...I like when you do that," he said, his face turning red. He seemed embarrassed at that. He usually wouldn't comment on whether or not he liked something. He kept mostly all of his opinions to himself. I guessed that maybe he just didn't like the attention. The smile on Sodapop's face made me smile, too. He pushed his hair back again and I could sense the relief radiating off of both of the brothers.

At that moment, Darry came rushing into the room in a similar manner as Sodapop. Me and Soda made eye contact before I sighed, telling myself that I should have waited for Darry to show up before I told Soda what the kid had told me. Now I just had to repeat myself and go through the same thing again.

***Ponyboy's POV***

I hated myself. That's all I could think as I watched three of my brothers worry. Yes, three. Steve was my brother, too, even if we weren't related by blood. Steve, Two-Bit, Dallas, and Johnny were all my brothers. I could only imagine what all six of them would feel and think when everybody found out my secret. I hated myself so much. I hated myself for ever even considering the fact that I could miss the basement. I didn't want to be back there. I didn't like the constant pain and abuse. I was happy where I was, even if I didn't act like I was happy most of the time. I wanted to be with my brothers. I wanted to be with all of them. I couldn't stand losing any of them. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to wake up and not see them. I went most of my life without them and I had only been back a few months but I still couldn't picture a life without them all. I had to stay with them. I couldn't bare to lose them once more. I had to enjoy my time with them. I had to stay there forever.

All of them were my family. That would never change. They were all my friends. They were all my family. I didn't have friends outside of the gang. I had no friends at school other than the ones in my gang who actually went. I had no friends on the track team. Sure, there were people in school who were nice to me, but I didn't have any other friends. I knew other greasers so it wasn't because of the fact that I didn't know many people. I knew the Shepard gang. Our gang had a fight with theirs once or twice while I was around. They were all friends, though, more-or-less. They had each other's backs. Our gang would help them if they were in a jam and theirs would do the same. They weren't bad people. Even they treated me differently which was something my gang was surprised with. They explained that the Shepard gang were real hoods and they didn't show sympathy or empathy. But they did for me. I didn't consider them friends, though, and neither did they. We were allies. We were greasers. That's all there was to it.

Steve and Sodapop were explaining everything to Darry. I didn't feel like repeating everything so I just blocked everything out. I relaxed more against Steve and tried to focus on his arms around me. It felt nice to be held by him considering the fact that it hadn't happened before. It wasn't like I rejected his touch but I think he was expecting me to so he avoided contact altogether. That made sense. I think he just didn't want to scare me. Sodapop and Darry held me a lot despite my flinching. They all continued to comfort me with or without physical contact. It wasn't like I let people hold me everyday. It wasn't exactly common for me to allow an arm across my shoulders or anything like that. Sodapop was the only one who did it on a daily basis and that was because we slept together. I found comfort in being held by him throughout the night. I couldn't sleep if his arm wasn't around me or if Scruffy wasn't in my arms.

The thought of Scruffy almost made me cry again. I knew it was a childish thing but I found comfort in that stupid little thing. I could have kicked myself for calling it stupid because to me, it was life-saving. That makes no sense, I know. To anybody else it was just an old stuffed animal. Scruffy wasn't stupid to me. It was something that physically connected me to the life I was born in. Not the life I was forced to have. I really cared about Scruffy. I think I'd die if I lost him. I tugged on Steve's vest and he looked down at me, cutting off whatever he was saying. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked me, his voice gentle and his features soft.

"Scruffy," I mumbled, feeling like a small child. I probably looked like one, too. I know I was acting like one.

He gave me a knowing smile. The entire gang knew that I basically clung to the thing. "You don't need 'im. The doctors said you'll be goin' home today so you'll have 'im tonight. Think you can wait that long?"

I nodded. "Thank you," I whispered.

"Speakin' of goin' home, kiddo, what doya say I go talk to the doc 'bout gettin' ya outta here now," Darry suggested. I nodded with my head still resting on Steve's chest. Darry grinned and walked out, but I didn't miss the worried glance he shot me. I think he wanted me to stay in the hospital. I was safe and protected in the hospital. That might be the case but I needed to be at home, surrounded by everybody. I needed that sense of comfort. I needed that normality. I think he understood that. I wish he didn't. I wish I was smart enough to want to stay in the hospital for as long as possible.

"When you're feelin' up to it, honey, we should probly talk to the fuzz 'bout the guy stalkin' ya," Soda said, sounding even more serious than he was a few minutes before. I hated him being serious and I especially hated being the cause of his seriousness. He was too happy-go-lucky to pull of being serious.

"I wanna do it when I leave," I declared, looking at him with pleading eyes. I didn't exactly want to report it and face my problems but I knew that the sooner it happened, the better the outcome would be. "I wanna keep him away from me."

"Are ya sure? You don't need to do it today if ya ain't ready for it," Soda said, resting his hand on my arm and squeezing gently.

"I am," I assured him. I wasn't ready but, at the same time, I was. I was scared and, because of that, I made myself ready. I wanted to make it all end. I wanted to stay with my brothers. A part of me knew I wouldn't be able to stay with my brothers. I knew deep down that I'd be found no matter what happened. I didn't say that, though. I had to at least act optimistic.

"If you're sure..." he said and gave me a supporting smile. He knew I wasn't ready. I could tell by the look in his eyes. But I think he understood that I wanted to get it over with. I wanted everything to get better. I think his smile was meant to make me feel better. It didn't work but I'd never tell him that.

"Actually..." I said, scrunching up my nose in disgust, "can I go home first? I wanna take a shower. I feel icky."

"You smell icky, too," Steve said and him and Sodapop burst out laughing. At first I felt bad because I thought he was upset with me for not smelling the best but I reminded myself that he wouldn't be laughing if he was upset with me about anything. I started laughing, too, once I realized that he wasn't angry. Once I started laughing, I couldn't stop. It was impossible to contain.

"Jesus, kid," Darry said, leaning against the door frame of the room, looking amused. "Keep laughin' at that and people might start to think you're happy or somethin'." His comment only made me start laughing more. I loved their stupid comments and their sarcasm and sassiness. I loved how often they could joke and I loved how serious situations never took away their sense of humor.

"Steve said he smells 'icky'," Sodapop said, still chuckling. I had a feeling that he was laughing at me and not at the joke. I was laughing too much for me to feel self-conscious at the fact that he was laughing at me. I didn't really care if he was laughing at me. It was funny and that's all I could seem to focus on.

"Well, kiddo, doc said you could come home. Just sighed ya out," Darry said, his amused smirk only growing. I nodded and tried to stop laughing because, to be honest, I couldn't breathe that well. It was worth it, in my opinion. I'd rather not be able to breathe because I was laughing too hard than struggle to breathe because I was terrified.

Sodapop seemed to sense my problem because he let out a loud laugh. "You gotta stop and breathe, Pone," he said and ruffled my already messy hair. I scowled at him through my laughter.

"I can't help it," I somehow choked out. I felt tears running down my face and that sobered me up quickly. I touched my cheek gingerly and then looked up at three of my brothers. They looked at me and I think they understood what was going on through my head. I had never cried from laughter and if I had, I couldn't remember it. I rarely laughed as it was. They only smiled at me and Steve rubbed my arm, relief covering his face. They all looked relieved. I guessed it was because I was laughing. They probably thought that was a sign that I'd be okay. I smiled up at the three of them. I didn't want it to end but, like always everything good in my life comes to a quick end.


	9. Chapter 9 - We Never Made It Home

We didn't even leave the hospital property.

I was still smiling and laughing along with Steve and Sodapop as Darry rolled me down the hallway. Hospital policy said that all patients had to be escorted out in a wheelchair. That was probably one of the stupidest things that existed in the world but I didn't care all that much. I was in too good of a mood to really care. Darry laughed along with us on the way out of the hospital but he kept all of his comments to himself unless he was telling Sodapop that he was the biggest dork he has ever met. I couldn't disagree with him.

I didn't see him immediately. My problems were nonexistent at that moment for the first time since I was four years old. For the first time in ten years I was genuinely happy and worry-free. I guess that was my first mistake. Darry left us to go pull the truck up and I was allowed out of the wheelchair. Me, Sodapop, and Steve all stood around in front of the hospital as we waited. Steve and Sodapop were shoving each other and laughing while doing so. I stood to the side, wanting to watch but not wanting to be accidentally pushed. I was oblivious to my surroundings. So were Steve and Sodapop. It was just like the first time. Darry was in charge of us. I was with Steve and Soda. Neither of them noticed until it was too late. I didn't notice anything until it happened. It was the same thing just a different situation. Irony.

It happened too fast. I guess that's what a lot of people say about a lot of different things. 'It all happened so fast.' It's the truth. One second I'm laughing and the next there's a hand wrapped around my mouth. The next ten seconds went like this: I squealed in my throat which caused Steve and Soda to turn to us. It took them only a second to register what was going on. The next second they were both reaching out to grab me but I was already being pulled backwards. I was shoved back into the backseat of a car that I hadn't noticed. The person who grabbed me got in the passenger seat as the car sped away. Soda had grabbed the door handle and was pulled forward with the car but he couldn't get the door opened. I went to help him open it before I felt a needle pierce my skin. Then everything went cold and dark.

I let out a soft groan as I felt myself waking up. Everything was hazy and I couldn't remember what had happened before I fell asleep. I went to reach out for my brother when I didn't feel his arm around me but my arm wouldn't move. There was a pressure on my wrist that was preventing me from moving it freely. I immediately woke up completely even though everything was still hazy and not adding up fully in my mind. I yanked at both of my arms and my eyes opened wie. I started panicking.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no," I moaned, pulling harder on my wrists. I felt the chain begin to dig into my skin but it was only a dull pain in my moment of absolute terror. Tears stared obscuring my vision but I blinked them away. I needed to take a good look around and I couldn't do that effectively with my eyes full of tears. It was essential for me to figure out what I was dealing with. "Okay," I whispered, trying to control my rapidly beating heart and my ever-quickening breath. I scoped the ceiling first. There was a small window on the far side of the room. There was a light coming through from it. "Good, good. Got a light and a window," I mumbled. Speaking it out loud made it more real and made it easier for me to organize my thoughts. I needed to get my brain working so I could figure out what happened and decide what I was going to do next.

I took a deep breath and forced my body to relax. I stopped pulling on the restraints and I let my head rest against the wall behind me. Slowly, I counted backwards from ten. I needed to calm down if I was going to figure out my situation. After a couple of minutes, my chest felt less constricted and it allowed air to course through my body a bit easier than before. Again, I started to look around the room. There were stairs going along the wall opposite of the window. At the top of the stairs there was a closed door. I sighed to myself, turning back to look at the window. With the angle, I was able to see out of it along with the stairs in the room. I knew I was in another basement. That was obvious.

I tapped my fingers nervously against the wall as I allowed myself to scope out the rest of the room. I wasn't surprised with the familiarity of it all. I was locked in a basement again. My arms were chained to the wall behind me and above my head. Luckily for me, my feet were free. I was a runner. If I had an opportunity, I could be out of there faster than they could realize I was moving. I hate to sound cocky but I know how fast I am. The thought that I could actually make it out of there by running brought me only slight comfort but it was better than nothing. I saw ropes and chains laying around the room almost carelessly. The part of me that wasn't terrified because my head was too fuzzy almost rolled my eyes. They were going to stick with the same tricks. They were sticking with what they knew, I suppose. "Chains, ropes, whips, bats, belts..." I listed off, trying to find out every weapon that these people had laying out.

The scene in front of me kept blurring and I bit back a groan of frustration. "What type of drugs am I on?" I asked myself, closing my eyes and sighing. I figured that that's what was making me so hazy. It had to be drugs. "Okay, so what's the last thing I remember...?" I tried to form some sort of memory but I couldn't. It was like I never left the basement. I didn't have memories. I wondered if maybe I dreamt the entire thing up. I could picture everybody so vividly in my mind but I couldn't place the names to the faces. I could picture them so vividly. I couldn't hear their voices or remember anything about them. I knew some details like I had a brother who slept with me. I couldn't picture which face was usually there. I started freaking out. "My god...did I make them up?"

It only took a moment for me to break out into a full-blown panic attack. I convinced myself within a matter of seconds that I must have dreamt everything up. I asked myself what if those nightmares I had were really my reality but I was just too high to realize it. I never went home, I told myself. I must have been given lots of drugs to hallucinate that vividly and dream that often. I made up an entire reality that never existed and I couldn't even remember it. I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I didn't know if it was better or worse than remembering everything. I couldn't slow down my breathing. My heart was pounding hard and loud in my chest and my head was spinning. I had been so close to my family. They were right there and now they were gone. I let my thoughts get away from me. I was just so darn scared. So so scared.

"Well, well, well," I heard from above my position on the floor. I snapped my head up and look towards the top of the stairs. I stared up at my captor in horror but I was oddly filled with relief. It wasn't the either of the people who were there for those nine years. I knew him but I also knew he wasn't one of the main men. I told myself that this meant I was really safe for a while, whether I remembered it or not. I had no other explanation for why they weren't there. But that didn't explain why I had no memories of being out. I was awfully confused.

"What's going on?" I asked, trying to sound at least a little brave. I knew I wasn't going to fool anybody but I could at least do my best to act like I wasn't completely and utterly terrified. "Why am I here? Where is here?"

"You're more chatty than I remember," He said with a dark, evil laugh. He seemed to walk in slow motion as he made his way down the stairs. Finally, he came to a stop in front of me, squatting down so we were eye level with each other. "Welcome back," he said, cupping his hand in between my legs. I sucked in a breath, causing him to smirk. "You've gotten bigger since you were a kid. Mmmm..." His hand started to grope me harder and I hated the way my body reacted. I felt my member grow hard and pleasure surged through my body. I usually reacted that way and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I tried my best to control it but my body didn't agree with my mind. My body may have liked it but I hated it with all of my heart and mind. I tried to focus on other things to slow down the pleasure but it was so difficult.

By this point, I was undressed from my waist down and my body was unwillingly bucking against his hand. "Nooo," I whined, feeling more like a child than I had in years. The haziness only got worse the longer I was awake and it made any strength I had go away. I hadn't even realized that I was crying until then. I felt completely helpless. I was useless. It was nothing different to me. I was so used to it. I couldn't figure out why I was reacting so badly to everything. "Please," I gasped as he started stroking my length quicker. I felt a warmth in the pit of my stomach and I didn't want that. "Please...please, stop."

"You gotta behave yourself," he whispered grimly in my ear. "I want you to beg for me. Beg for me, cum slut. Beg like a little whore."

"Leave me alone," I pleaded, trying to squirm away even though I could only move my lower body. My wrists being tied up really prevented me from moving too much. That didn't stop me from trying, though. "Stoooop."

"Shut the fuck up, you whiny bitch," he growled, clamping both of his hands around my neck and squeezing. "You gotta learn to behave yourself." I struggled to breathe but he was constricting my air. He continued until I felt myself losing consciousness. His hands left my neck and I gasped for air. His hands found their way back to the lower half of my body and he slid his rough, dry fingers into my bottom. I cried out in pain and discomfort. No matter how many times they entered me, my body never accommodated to the intruding mass.

"Ahh! Stop, stop!" I begged, my sobs getting louder and shaking my body more violently. I was surprised for a moment when he obliged and removed his fingers. That surprise quickly changed to terror as he slid his own member into me. It was more painful than his fingers and I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"Mmm, yeah, so fuckin' tight," he growled, pushing against my abdomen as he slammed into me hard and fast. I tried kicking my legs as an attempt to fight him off but he quickly changed that. He took my legs and slung them over his shoulders, pushing my knees so they touched my ears. This position stretched me more than his member and I began to wail. I wanted it to end. His hand found my member and he started stroking it. Despite the pain I felt, I couldn't help the moan that accidentally escaped my lips. "Annggg, you like that, cum slut? Yeah, fuckin' take it." He began pumping me faster as he slid in and out of me. My body tried to thrust back against his but I did my best to control the movements. "C'mon, baby, let your body do what it wants."

"Please stop!" I cried. I didn't exactly believe in god but I began praying. I prayed to any god out there that this man would just finish me off. I wanted him to kill me so I didn't have to live through that pain anymore. I'd kill myself but there was no way for me to. At least not quickly. I could refuse food and water but maybe he'd force them in me. I could make him angry enough to kill me but I didn't know if that would work. I just needed the pain to end because I couldn't spend the rest of my life living as his personal punching bag and sex toy.

He came shortly after with a loud moan from low in his throat. He stopped pumping me so I was left extremely hard and close but he didn't finish the job. It hurt bad to not have any release but I was relieved he didn't make that happen. I was already disgusted with myself. I didn't want to add that to the reasons why. After he finished, he clothed himself but not me and walked up the stairs. He smirked at me and warned me that he was going to be back soon. I believed him. He'd be back. No questions asked.

I cried myself to sleep, unable to do anything else.

***Sodapop's POV***

"No!" I screamed as the car drove off. "NO!" I fell to my hands and knees and curled my body around itself. "PONYBOY!" There was no way. We were right in front of the fucking hospital. There was no way that just happened. He was safe. He was laughing. He was HAPPY. For the first time in ten years, my baby brother was actually happy. If he wasn't, he was doing a hell of a job pretending.

"Oh my god," Steve said from behind me. "Oh my god. Oh my god." I didn't have to look at him to know that he was pacing, running all ten of his fingers through his hair. His eyes were probably wide and fearful. His steps were probably large and quick as he walked between two spots. He was probably trying to come up with a way to fix what just happened. That's who he was. He was always using his brain. He was smarter than anybody gave him credit for, that's for sure. He was great at problem solving. He really put his brain to good use. That's how he was so good with cars. He could take the time to think about it all. But there was no fixing this problem. Ponyboy was gone. We wouldn't see him ever again. It was just like the last time except I doubted we'd get him back.

"Excuse me, sir, what's going on?" I heard a female ask. It was probably a nurse. I decided to let Steve handle it. I couldn't do it. I was too busy sobbing on the ground.

"Can you please call the police?" Steve said, his voice desperate. Steve never asked for anything and he certainly didn't say please. I started crying harder. It was so serious. I lost my brother again. Steve was scared. Steve was as fearless as Dallas acted.

"Sodapop? Sodapop, what happened?" I heard Darry call over to me. A second later I heard the car door open and then slam shut. Then he was kneeling next to me and holding me in my arms.

"He's gone," I sobbed, wrapping my arms around his waist. "He took 'im! It's my fault. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Oh god. Ponyboy, I'm so sorry."

"Shh, little buddy, shh," Darry soothed, rubbing circles on my back. I was vaguely aware of Steve trying to explain the situation to a nurse. He sounded about as hysterical as I did. "Calm down, alright? I need you to relax so you can tell me what happened."

"He took 'im!" I shouted but I wasn't shouting at him. I was just shouting. "God, I let him get away again! It's my fault! I didn't move fast enough! Oh god. Darry, he just threw 'im in the car an' sped off." My sobbing got worse and I was having a panic attack. I understood Ponyboy more in that one second than I did in the months that he had been back. Panic attacks were just as terrifying as what caused them. Being unable to force any air down my lungs only made the terror inside me intensify.

I couldn't hear anything that was going on around me anymore. The only thing I noticed was the sharp sting in my arm. Then things around me came back into focus. I was basically on Darry's lap and there was two other people surrounding me besides him. There was Steve, who looked just as terrified as Darry, and a nurse, who looked sorry. I noticed the needle in her arm. "Little buddy?" Darry said gently, shaking my shoulder lightly. I looked at him, absentmindedly noting that my eyes were slower to respond than normal, and he gave me a relieved smile. He was crying, though. "The nurse had to give ya somethin' to calm down, 'kay, Pepsi? Close your eyes an' go to sleep."

I couldn't argue with that. If I was asleep I didn't have to think about the pain and suffering my baby brother was probably enduring at that very moment. I welcomed the darkness and emptiness.


	10. Chapter 10 - I Didn't See My Parents

A/N Sorry! I know people might want more details when it comes to him being in the basement again but I struggle with writing those types of scenes. I keep trying and they're all rushed. They all lack too much detail. Again, I'm sorry if any of you like reading abuse scenes but those aren't the types of things I could really get into writing. Reading them is one thing but I'm not too good about writing them. I understand that this rushes the story quite a bit but I hope it's still okay.

***Ponyboy's POV***

His brother was in jail because of me. That's why he wanted me so badly. He felt like he should continue where his brother left off. I guess that made sense. If it hadn't been for me his brother would be walking free to this day. He took so much time preparing for the kidnapping because he didn't want to meet the same fate as his brother. He wanted to make sure that I was able to suffer for a long, long time.

Three weeks could do a lot to a person's mind and body. I could say that those three weeks had a bigger impact on me than the nine years I was there originally but I don't think anybody would believe me. Three weeks was enough to take away any spark of life I had in me. I lost almost all will to live because, frankly, I couldn't see the point. I was chained up to the basement wall and I believed that I would be there for the rest of my life. Thoughts like that made me realize that things would be a lot better for me if I wasn't alive. I wouldn't exactly use the term 'thoughts' to describe any of this, though. I could barely think. Most of the time I just had an idea in my head, but I couldn't figure out how it got there. I couldn't remember the actual thought process. I guess drugs constantly getting shot into my system made thinking and remembering a very, very difficult thing to do.

I can't explain how I was still alive after three weeks. I barely had any water while I was there and I hadn't had a bite to eat the entire time. I'm positive I had more drugs in my system than what would be considered safe (I use the term 'safe' loosely). I'm sure an infection had already set into my body by that point and I was dirty. I was covered in dirt, vomit, and cum. I was still wearing the same clothes I showed up in. That is if they were kind enough to dress me when they were finished with me. I was so tired. I had barely had the chance to sleep while I was there. That mixed in with the drugs made me feel as if I was insane. I might have been insane for a while there. It's too hard to tell. The memories from those three weeks blend in with each other most of the time. When I did have a break, my body seemed to almost be too tired to sleep. That's what it felt like, at least. I tried to sleep; I really did. My body was physically exhausted. There really isn't a logical explanation for why I hadn't died down there. I should have. At the time, I was wishing I would. I was deathly sick.

I was used everyday. It was more than just once. Multiple times of everyday my body was used. I stopped trying to fight it after the first two days. That's when my body got too tired to fight back. He told me all the time that I made him a lot of money. I knew from prior experience that I made these men lots of money. They took shifts. There were three of them who stayed there for those three weeks. Everybody else came and went. It's amazing how many evil people there are in the world. Everybody wanted a piece of the sick, dying kid who was chained in the basement. The pain in my body from the constant use and beatings got duller after the first few days. When my body gave up its fight, the pain stopped coming in as intense. The drugs had a huge part in that, too. I wasn't complaining for the lack of emotional and physical pain.

I keep mentioning drugs. I wish I knew what exactly they gave me but I don't think I'll ever find out. It wasn't always an injection into my unwilling body. Sometimes it was a pill that I was forced to swallow. A lot of times it was a mixture of the two. That's extremely dangerous. Like I said before, I don't know how I survived down there. I should have died from lack of sleep, hunger, dehydration, infection, overdose, and I'm sure other things. The physical beatings were bad enough to kill me. I may no remember every specific detail of the beatings but I knew they were bad. I could feel the scars forming on my already scarred body. I was tortured so much more than I ever used to be. They burned my body. My back, mainly. The beatings were usually slow and painful even though I could barely feel and remember the pain. I couldn't picture the faces of the people on top of me. I knew they were there and I could sometimes feel them but my brain was usually too fuzzy to get an accurate picture of them. I couldn't remember much. I couldn't remember the weapons they used on me or anything. I think that's what bothers me the most about the entire situation. I hated not remembering.

Another thing I really hated was the dying feeling I had. I could feel my mind and body slipping away. I wasn't fighting as hard as I should have to stay alive because, like I've said, I wanted it to be over. I wanted them to just kill me and get it over with. However, a part of me was still fighting. A part of me was still trying to stay alive because I wanted so desperately to see my brothers. Any of them, not just Soda and Darry. However, it made it easier to tell myself that I only had two brothers, not six. It hurt less to imagine losing two people compared to six, but no matter how many times I tried telling myself that, I still considered them all my brothers. I wanted to hear their voices just one more time. I needed to hear them. I would have preferred to see them but I knew that there was no way I'd be able to see them. If I focused hard enough as the drugs started wearing off, I could hear my brothers talking to me. At the time, I still couldn't remember anything about them. I couldn't remember their voices. The first day I was there, I could picture their faces. That ability faded within two days. Thankfully, I gained the ability to hear their voices sometimes. It was scary to even consider the fact that I made up that reality. I really believed that I did most of the time. But the part of me that believed I really had experienced living with my brothers kept me fighting.

I hadn't realized immediately that there was a man on top of me. I vaguely wondered how long he had been there but I knew it didn't make a difference. I guess I wasn't as drugged up as normal because I was thinking a tad bit clearer than I had been for those three weeks. I noticed that my hands weren't chain back or tied down. They were held to the floor by the man on top of me. I watched him as he moaned and grunted above me. I had wished at the time that I could feel the pain because I was tired of being numb. I figured that if I felt the pain then maybe I would die. I closed my eyes briefly, silently apologizing to my brothers. Whether or not I really had experienced freedom for those nine months, I knew I had to apologize for giving up. Ten months beforehand I was found in the basement. If I had known I'd end up back there, I would have finished myself off during the nine months of freedom I had. But, while I was held down by the man raping me, I wasn't completely sure that those nine months existed.

I waited until the man's grip on my wrists faltered a bit. When they did, I somehow found the strength to pull them away and shove him back. I wasn't able to push him off of me but I was able to anger him. That's what I wanted to do. Maybe if I got him angry enough, he'd finish the process. My body was weak enough anyways. A few really good hits could do it. I had little-to-no strength but all I had to do was stay aware long enough to anger him further. Because of my shove, I was rewarded with a punch to the mouth. That didn't stop me from fighting him. I took it a step further by spitting in his face before snapping, "C'mon, fatass, you should be able to hit a little harder." That was probably the second time I cursed out loud. I didn't care.

"What the fuck did you just say?" the man growled, moving both of his hands around my neck. He didn't squeeze just yet so I figured I'd change that.

"You think you're so strong?" I spat, glaring at him with as much hate and anger that I could muster. It was so hard to do just that but I didn't want to stop until he finished me off. I didn't want to stop until I found myself in between my mom and my dad. I didn't want to stop until I knew I was okay.

"You're really askin' for it, kid!" he snapped, squeezing my neck and cutting off my airway. I really was asking for it so I couldn't help the dry chuckle that passed my lips with the little air I had in my lungs. I smirked, showing my cockiness knowing that he wouldn't like that at all. I was right because he squeezed harder. I continued to squirm below him so he would continue squeezing, which he did. I passed out seconds later, thinking that it was the last time I would ever be conscious.

I was wrong, like always, because a very angry voice broke snapped my body awake. I couldn't force my eyes open, though, which was a good sign to me. I felt weaker than before. "Are you fuckin' serious?" I heard. The voice wasn't that far away. I knew whoever he was, he was near me.

"Yeah, we gotta get the fuck outta here. Guess the brat's brothers knew it was you who took 'im," a second voice said. I realize now that that means my brothers reported to the cops that the guy who had been stalking me had been one of the original guys' brothers. I know that the cops must have found out where he was hiding. At the time I barely even knew what he was saying.

"What're we gonna do 'bout the kid?" the first voice asked frantically.

"We ain't got no time. You hear the sirens. C'mon, we gotta go."

Then the voices stopped. I heard the door slam open and then shut. What felt like seconds later, but in reality was probably a couple of minutes, there were voices near me again except this time they were talking to me. "Ponyboy? Rick, check his pulse."

There were two fingers on the side of my neck but I couldn't do anything about it. "There but barely. We're gonna lose 'im soon. We need to get him to the hospital right fucking now," the guy I'm assuming was Rick said. "Get these fucking chains off of him."

Great, I thought weakly, I'm chained up again. I hadn't realized it until they mentioned that I was. It wasn't like I could lift my body and find out. I didn't feel the cold metal against my wrists. I couldn't even tell that I was sitting, leaning against the wall. I was going to die when help finally came for me. I would have laughed at the irony if I could find the strength to laugh. I probably wouldn't have laughed at the situation if I was sober, though, so I could thank the drugs for the urge to laugh. I stopped wanting to laugh when I thought about my brothers. I wondered what their reactions would be when they heard that help came too late.

Darry would stare ahead with an emotionless look on his face but his eyes would say it all. It would be invisible unless you knew him. When him and Sodapop would get alone, he'd cry along with our brother but do his best to calm him down. He'd tell Soda that it'd be okay while he shed his own tears. Sodapop would break down the second he saw the grim looks on the police officer's face. He'd fall to the ground in tears, begging for it to not be true. He'd hug himself and rock back and forth the way I did when I was scared. Steve would swear up a storm and turn away. He wouldn't want anybody to see him cry. He'd want everybody to think that he didn't care. It was just another dead greaser. He'd hurt but he wouldn't let anybody see. He'd cry but pretend the tears didn't exist. Two-Bit would run out before anybody could see him cry. He'd offer his support to Soda and Darry until the funeral, staying sober the entire time. After my funeral, though, he'd get drunk and stay drunk for days. He'd stay with my Soda and Darry the entire time, not caring if they started hating him for his childish ways. He'd try to cheer them up with his drunk antics. Then he'd pretend it never happened. He'd pretend I never existed. Johnny would disappear for a few days until the funeral. When he'd show up again, he'd be sporting dozens of new bruises and a limp. He'd pretend that he wasn't hurting emotionally by making himself hurt physically. He'd make his dad angry enough he'd want to kill him because, in reality, Johnny would want to die. He'd go to his house and cry, hoping his father would hear and come in with a two-by-four or something worse. Dallas would get himself jailed. He'd probably hurt somebody really bad as a way to let out all of his emotions so he wouldn't explode emotionally. He wouldn't be able to handle it. When he got released from jail, he'd come by cocky as ever and act like I didn't exist. When he'd get alone, though, he'd mourn for me. He'd say he was sorry, not expecting me to be able to hear him. He'd cry for me but that's not something he'd even admit to me.

I thought about my parents. When I saw them, I'd run right up to them and hug them. I'd tell them I love them. I'd hug my mom first but reach out to grab hold of my dad. I'd force him to hug me and mom because I would want to be close to both of them. I'd apologize for not telling them how much I love them before it was too late. I'd cry and they'd cry with me. They'd tell me how happy they were to see me but they wished it would have waited another seventy or so years. They'd hold me tight, telling me it shouldn't have ended up the way it did. Then we'd check up on all of my brothers and cry for their misery because they were suffering so much. My parents would keep hugging me and I wouldn't flinch once. I'd welcome the touch for the first time in ten years. I'd lay in my mother's arms and fall asleep while my dad held the two of us. We'd be together again.

I found myself being lifted up and somehow found the strength to open my eyes. I think it was because of how hard I was thinking about my family. The cop who was carrying me made eye contact with me and smiled gently as if he was trying to comfort me. "Can you hear me, Ponyboy?" he asked. It was one of the cops who had found me the first time and the one who told us that my parents had died. I think I nodded. I tried to, at least. "Stay awake for us, kiddo. We're gonna get you to the hospital." I know he just told me to stay awake but I couldn't any longer. My eyes fell shut. "We're losing him!" I heard the cop shout seconds before I fell into darkness, expecting to see my parents smiling faces.

I didn't see my parents. I couldn't see anything. But the next thing I knew, there was somebody holding my hand. I tried to squeeze back but I couldn't. There was crying. "Oh, baby, we got ya now," the voice said. It was Sodapop. I tried harder to squeeze his hand back but I still couldn't. I tried to force my eyes open but it wasn't working.

"We love you so much, Lil Colt," Darry's voice broke in. He was crying, too.

I love you guys, too, I thought. Then darkness engulfed me once more.

***Sodapop's POV***

When we got a call saying that Ponyboy was found and was being rushed to the hospital, me and Darry rushed out of the house. We made it to the hospital in half the usual time it took to get there. We needed to see him and make sure he was alright. It was the hospital who called us. They said that the police officers called ahead and let them know that they were bringing my brother to the hospital. Then the doctors called us but they didn't know what to expect. All they knew was that it was bad. I guess that's all anybody needed to know. Me and Darry were there and we watched him being rushed in on a stretcher. I only caught a glimpse of him at the moment but I saw enough. It was bad alright. He looked horrible. After a couple minutes of arguing with the nurse, we were allowed in the room to see him before they took him away. They were only cutting off his clothes and hooking IVs and stuff to him. We later found out that they were about to try to rehydrate him with fluids because dehydration was one of the biggest problems at the moment. That changed quickly, though. Everything always changes quickly.

All we did was tell him we love him. That's all we did. I told him that we had him. Darry said we loved him. Then his chest stopped moving. The nurse touched the side of his neck and shoved us aside. "Patient not breathing! Can't find heart beat!" a nurse shouted as she shoved us out of the small room. Different doctors pushed past us and into the room while we stared through the small window. We couldn't fight back as we were shoved aside and away from our dying baby brother. We had just watched Ponyboy's heart stop. He arrived at the hospital five minutes beforehand and we were only in the room for about a minute before he stopped breathing. We only got the chance to tell him that we love him and then his chest stopped moving up and down. I wondered if he knew he was dying but was holding on long enough so he could hear us just one more time. My first thought as they pressed the paddles against his chest was, 'We're too late.' My next thought as they tried the paddles for a second time was, 'If another ten minutes would've went by before he was found then he would have died alone.' The thought that broke me as they tried for the third and last time to start my poor brother's heart was, 'Oh my god. I'm not going to be a big brother anymore.'

My knees buckled beneath me and I let out a loud sob. Darry followed me to the floor and wrapped his arms around me. He cradled me to his chest and I hid my face in his neck. "Shh, Pepsi, shhh," he whispered, holding the back of my head. He stroked my hair lightly. "We'll be okay. We'll make it through this." I didn't need to see him to know that he was crying. I couldn't hear the tears in his voice but I could hear the strain to keep his voice steady. He was crying but trying his hardest not to let me know.

"We got him back!" a doctor shouted. Darry removed his arms from me and stood up in a matter of seconds. I grabbed his outstretched hand and he helped me to my feet without looking away from our brother. I peered in through the window and saw the rise and fall of his chest. It was slight but still there. Relief coursed through my body and I let out a laugh.

"God. Pony is a fighter!" I said, punching Darry's arm in excitement. Words couldn't even describe how relieved I was to see that he was breathing again. I watched as doctors and nurses hovered over him, doing whatever it was they were doing to keep my brother alive. I knew that the reason they were able to bring him back was because he was a fighter. I saw the condition he came back in. I had no idea how he survived as long as he did. He was holding on for us. There was no doubt in my mind that he would've died if he didn't have us waiting for him. He was trying not to die. That was the only way. He was basically dead. His body went through too much.

"Way to go, little man," Darry whispered, staring straight at Ponyboy. Relieved tears were flowing down his face. I realized that the same went for me. He was so beat up. I could barely recognize him underneath all the bruises. He was so dirty. He was covered in blood and other fluids. I didn't even get a chance to see all of his injuries. We were only in his room for a minute. It was bad. He was horrible. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he went through. But he was alive. My poor baby brother.


	11. Chapter 11 - Waking Up

Waiting for Ponyboy to wake up was horrible. We were all so scared that his heart would just stop again. We never left him alone just in case. If it wasn't me or Darry it was Johnny or Two-Bit. Steve was working more. I had a feeling that he was clocking in under my name. He really is the best buddy a guy could have. We saw Dallas only the day they brought Ponyboy back. He stopped coming around. I think it hurt him to see Ponyboy so broken. Unlike the rest of us, Dallas didn't know how to deal with that type of pain. He didn't know how to deal with any pain. He turned all of his pain into anger.

Ponyboy was unconscious for a week before it happened. It was only me with him. Darry was at work. He had to put in as many hours as possible. The hospital bills weren't going to pay themselves. It was faint but I saw Pony's face twitch. I stood up so I was leaning over him. "Pony?" I whispered, stroking his hair so that he wouldn't wake up terrified. I could only imagine the fear he felt while he was away from us. "It's Sodapop, baby. Open your eyes. Lemme see those green eyes of yours." He had amazing eyes. They haunted my dreams while he was away. I was relieved that when he came back after those nine years he had the same eyes. He had them ever since he was a baby. They were the most noticeable things about him. They were a bright green with some underlying gray. His eyes changed with his mood, though. They were grayer when he was really sad and greener the rest of the time.

"Mmmnnnggg," he moaned softly, his face contorting in what looked like pain. I couldn't be sure, though.

"Shhh," I soothed, grabbing his hand with my free one. I ran my thumb over the back of it before bringing it to my lips, kissing it lightly. I wanted to laugh in relief. Ponyboy was waking up. He was really waking up. I had missed him so much. I know I was being selfish by wanting him awake as much as I did but I couldn't help it. I told myself that they'd give him pain medicine if he was in pain. It was better for him to sleep through the pain but I really needed to talk to him. I needed to hear his voice. I needed to hear from him that he'd be okay.

"'ooodaaa?" he groaned, his body shifting a bit. It sounded like he was trying to say my name. I leaned down to kiss his forehead, expecting him to flinch away. When he didn't, I decided that he was just too tired to.

"It's me, Lil Colt. C'mon, Pone, open your eyes for me," I all but pleaded. I sat on the bed next to him and continued to stroke his hair. "Look at me, Pony." I saw him struggle to open his eyes for a moment but eventually he did it. I was looking into his half-opened eyes. I didn't care that he couldn't open them all the way just yet. He was still awake and looking at me. He could hear me. He could see me. He was okay. Tears came to my eyes. Relieved tears. Happy tears. "Hi, baby."

"Is it really you?" he asked in a whisper. Quieter than a whisper, actually. His voice sounded so weak. His body seemed even weaker. He hadn't had anything to eat and barely had anything to drink. It was obvious. We knew he had to have had something to drink eventually because three weeks without water would have killed him before he was found. He was so much smaller than he was before he was taken away and his vitamin levels were low. It was obvious he hadn't ate anything. If he did, it was very, very small portions.

"It's really me," I choked out, smiling at him through my tears. He studied me for a while before his features seemed to relax a bit more.

"Nnn, c'mere," he whispered, making an attempt to move over in his hospital bed. I smiled. He wanted me to lay with him. I almost started full-out bawling. I was so happy that he wanted me ever after what happened to him. Even after what he went through. Even though I failed to protect him. I helped him move to the side so I could slide in next to him. The moment my body hit the mattress, he seemed to use up all of his body strength to scoot closer to me. His head rested on my shoulder and he sighed with a small smile. I knew I should have went to get the doctor to let him know that Ponyboy was awake but I was being too selfish.

"You sleepy, honey?" I asked him, just trying to get a few more words out of him. I didn't care what he said. I didn't care what we talked about. I just needed to hear his voice a little while longer.

"Mmmhhhmmmm," he moaned as he shut his eyes. I felt his hand grab mine and I immediately gripped it back. I watched as his smile grew a bit. I barely recognized him. It wasn't because of the multi-colored bruises that littered his body. It wasn't because of the pale skin poking out behind the bruises. It wasn't because of the way his face had begun to sink in. It was because of the genuine smile. It seemed so out of place on my baby brother but I wasn't at all sad to see it.

"Pone, can you stay up an' talk for a few minutes?" I asked, feeling mighty guilty for forcing him to stay awake. I just needed my baby brother like he probably needed us. It was strange. I needed him when I hadn't went through anything. I just needed to make sure he wasn't going to leave again.

"Hmmmm...sure," he said, his eyes opening back up halfway to stare at me. They were hazy with sleep but they still managed to look thoughtful. He always managed to look thoughtful even when he was terrified. He seemed curious about the world the way that a small child is. I guess missing out on years of seeing everything took its toll on him. I wondered if he'd ever get used to seeing anything other than darkness.

"Are you in any pain?" I asked, rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb. It seemed like Pony had to think about this before answering. He shook his head making a quiet 'no' noise. "You sure, honey?"

"Mhmm...Soda, what happened?" he asked, his thoughtful eyes growing curious and confused. I was worried for a moment about him not remembering but calmed myself down. He was barely awake and basically high off of whatever drugs the hospital was giving him. It was a good thing, too. If he had none of that medicine I'm sure he would have been in some horrible pain.

"That doesn't matter, Pone. What matters is that you're okay now," I said quietly in his ear. He smiled at me and curled into my side. "What're ya thinkin' 'bout?"

"It feels like I'm flying," he said and then let out an adorable little giggle. I looked at him like he was four instead of fourteen. Being that tired, I wouldn't have been surprised if he thought he was that young. I could tell that no real thoughts were going through his head. The longer I looked at him, the more convinced I was that he was still asleep. I smiled sadly. It was better than nothing.

"Go to sleep, Lil Colt," I whispered, pushing his hair back. He nodded and immediately closed his eyes. "I love ya, Pone." He mumbled something but his voice trailed off. I think he was saying that he loves me, too.

It was difficult to see him like that. The first few days he was in the hospital, he had a tube down his throat to help him breathe. Then they decided that he was okay enough to breathe without that but they still put the mask on him. The mask only lasted a day, though, because then they put the tubes in his nose. He looked younger with all of that. Something else that really killed all of us was that he was in pediatrics. He was just a kid. We all knew that, of course, but seeing other people label him as a kid, too, made it more real.

The bruises that covered his body hadn't gotten any better. Some of the cuts he came in with had started to scab and we all knew they were going to scar. He already had plenty of other new scars. He had bags under his eyes even though he was unconscious for at least a week. Nobody knew how much he slept during the three weeks he was missing.

His heart had stopped twice. After that first time, they took him to emergency surgery. His heart stopped on the table but they brought him back. Since then, his heart has seemed to be in normal condition. That made us all relax a bit. He had broken ribs on both sides. I didn't ask how many. All I knew was that it was quite a few and it would be extremely painful when the doctors started taking him off of the high doses of pain medicine. His wrist was also broken. We were surprised, to say the least, that that's all that was broken. His body looked so damaged. It was hard to believe that only some ribs and a wrist were broken. He had a stab wound on his shoulder, though, and that was a little problematic because it had gotten infected. Aside from the dehydration, that was something that was really taking a toll on his body. He was still healing from the infection but after that week, it was almost completely gone. They also found high levels of some sort of drug in his system. They didn't know what drug it was specifically but they said that the high levels were extremely dangerous.

Seeing Ponyboy open his eyes and hearing his voice, I knew he'd be okay. That's all that mattered. There was no use thinking about how bad off he looked because he would be okay in the end. That's all I had to keep telling myself. I kissed Pony's temple before closing my eyes. I was awful tired, too. I figured I could take a small nap with my brother before I told the doctors that he had woken up.

***Ponyboy's POV***

I heard soft voices somewhere near me. I tired to open my eyes but they wouldn't budge. Instead of trying to force them open, I decided to just focus on the voices and try to make out what they were saying. It turns out that that was easier than I had thought it was going to be. "I wish you would've called me when he woke up," a rough voice said. Darry. My heart warmed. I missed my brothers. I couldn't figure out exactly what happened but I wasn't trying to hurt my head wondering. I was just going to go with whatever was going to happen.

"I know, Dare. Sorry," I heard Sodapop say next. I had a vague memory of speaking to Soda but I couldn't be sure. I wasn't sure on anything really. "But he was only up for a couple minutes and even then he wasn't really up. I went to sleep right after. I was tired."

"I know you were, little buddy," Darry sighed. I realized then that he was holding my hand. I knew it was his and not Sodapop's because Soda's skin was softer than Darry's. I used all of my strength to squeeze his hand. He squeezed back immediately to my relief. "Lil Colt? Pony, you awake?"

"What he do?" Soda asked and he sounded a lot closer than he had a moment before.

"He squeezed my hand. Ponyboy? Can you hear us?" he asked. I squeezed his hand again. When I tried to open my eyes, I succeeded. But I immediately shut them once I got them open. It was too bright for me. Somehow I was able to remember that my eyes had always been sensitive to the light. I couldn't remember why, though. It's strange the way memories work. I could remember that detail but I couldn't remember what caused it. I know it was because I grew up in the darkness. I would have thought I'd forget my eyes were sensitive to the light before I forgot that it was because I grew up in the basement without much light. "Soda, turn the light off, please. I think it's botherin' 'im."

"Shoot, it's botherin' me, too," he said and a moment later I could tell through my eyelids that the lights were off. I opened my eyes again and saw my two biological brothers standing over me, watching me with unsure yet relieved eyes. "Hey, buddy."

"You okay, honey?" Darry asked, hesitantly brushing the hair off of my forehead. I closed my eyes again at the sensation. When he moved his hand, I opened my eyes back up. He looked sorry.

"Don't look at me like that," I whispered, cringing at my hoarse voice. A hoarse voice for Ponyboy. I couldn't help the laughter that escaped my chapped lips. It wasn't much of a laughter, though. I couldn't manage all that.

Soda gave me an amused look. "What's so funny, Pone?" he asked, grabbing my other hand. Darry still had one of my hands in his.

"My voice is hoarse and I'm named after a Pony which is a horse," I said, still unable to control my laughter. Sodapop joined in and Darry only smirked, shaking his head.

"You never fail to surprise me, Lil Colt," he said. I smiled at him though I could tell it wasn't much of a smile. My body was really weak. I was really weak in general, and I was tired. But I wasn't ready to go back to sleep. "They must got ya on some good stuff, huh, buddy?"

Since he had mentioned it, I could tell that I was really doped up. I couldn't feel any pain which was a good thing. I was very drowsy and couldn't think clearly. It wasn't like the drugs I was on in the basement. I actually enjoyed the feeling while in the hospital. I didn't make the connection between the hospital drugs and basement drugs at the time, though. Like I said, I couldn't think clearly. "Mmmhhmmm, sure do," I whispered, still slightly giggling.

"We missed ya, baby," Darry said softly, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "Sorry, couldn't help myself," he said afterwards.

"Nnn, don't worry. I like it," I whispered back. Then I let out a huge yawn, making them both smile sadly.

"You wanna go back to sleep?" Soda asked me, giving my hand a squeeze. I nodded, shutting my eyes. It was all I could do. Golly, I was tired.

The next time I woke up, my eyes were a lot lighter than they had been. I opened them without much effort, which was a relief to me. I looked around and saw my older brother, Sodapop, asleep in a chair that was pulled up to the side of my bed. My hand was in his and his head was resting on his arm. I could tell he was sleeping by his slow, heavy breathing. "Soda?" I whispered. Immediately, his body jerked awake and he sat up. He stared at me and smiled wide.

"Pone? How ya feelin', honey?" he asked, standing up so he could sit on the bed next to me instead of sitting in the chair. "Did ya see Johnny? He was here...somewhere," he said, looking around the room for a moment before looking back at me.

"'m fine," I said with a small yawn. "Soda, why am I so tired?"

"They got ya on some heavy medicine," he said, slowly moving his free hand to my head. "Can I touch ya, Pone?"

"Course," I whispered. I shut my eyes as I felt his fingers brush my hair back.

"Are ya in any pain?" he asked when I opened my eyes.

"No," I mumbled. It was the truth. I was too tired to hurt. I almost started crying. "Soda, I don't wanna sleep no more." I felt like I could fall right back asleep but I didn't want to. I wanted to be with my family. I was thinking a lot clearer than before, though, so I guess that's an upside. I remembered that I was in the basement and then I was found and brought to the hospital. I knew that I should have been in pain but I wasn't.

"I know, baby," he said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze, "but you really should sleep. You're still exhausted."

"Few more minutes?" I asked, hoping I could talk some more before I went to sleep again. I had no idea how long I'd be asleep that time.

"Sure, baby, if ya can stay awake a little longer, go ahead," he said, kissing my hand. "What do ya wanna talk 'bout, Pone?"

"How long was I asleep?" I asked. I knew it had to have been a while which made no sense to me because I was still so exhausted.

"Eight days. They brought you here eight days ago. You woke up a couple times but you were never really awake."

"I think I remember bein' up," I admitted. "I asked you to sleep with me, right? And then I woke up and Darry was here with you."

He smiled happily. "You 'member that? Good," he said, stroking my hair. My body flinched involuntarily. His smile turned sad and he removed his hand. "Sorry, Pony."

"No," I whispered. "I like that. It'll just make me fall asleep."

"When Johnny comes back from wherever, I gotta go to work. Will you be alright with Johnny or do ya want me to call off of work?" he asked. I thought about this. I didn't want him to leave but at the same time I wanted to see Johnny. I wanted to be with all of them for as long as I could but I figured that that was asking for too much. Johnny was my brother, too, so I didn't have a problem being with him and not Sodapop.

"You can go to work. I'll be fine with Johnnycakes," I said, biting back a yawn. "Just don't fall asleep under a car, okay?"

"You let me worry 'bout that," he chuckled. I had to worry. He looked as tired as I felt. I doubted he had much sleep. Suddenly, I felt bad about waking him up.

"Ponyboy?" a surprised voice said. I looked past Sodapop and at the door. Johnny was standing there with wide eyes. I offered him a small smile because that's all I could muster up. He slowly walked over to us like he couldn't believe his eyes and smiled, tears in his eyes. I didn't see any new bruises on him which made me happy. I hated seeing him hurt. He would always show up with new bruises but he wouldn't let us do anything about it. I wondered if he was crying because he was happy or if he was crying because of my condition. Maybe he was crying in relief like I think Sodapop was. I figured it was all of the above. "I'm so glad you're back..." he said quietly when he reached my bed.

"Me too," I said, staring at him. Me and him are best friends. There's a connection between best friends just like there's a connection between blood brothers. Not to mention the fact that me and Johnny could have silent conversations with each other. For example, me and him had a conversation right there. He asked me if I was okay, to which I said I was fine. I asked if he was okay and he smiled, saying that he wasn't hurt. We could just look at the other and know exactly what we were thinking. We couldn't have actual conversations but we knew each other well enough to know what the other was thinking sometimes.

"Golly, you look horrible," he said with a light chuckle, making me smile. He wasn't one to make those types of comments. Two-Bit was more of the sarcastic one. The others would make those comments sometimes, too, but it was never me or Johnny. Johnny was too quiet and polite. He didn't like to joke around too much. He told me that he didn't like the attention jokes brought. He hated for anybody to be focused on him longer than they needed to be.

"You really know how to make a buddy feel better," I said, trying to hide my amusement. It was obvious in my voice, though. I wasn't one to make jokes, either, or any comments that weren't needed. I did it before I was taken because I wasn't thinking too clearly. At that moment, though, I decided that if I wanted to get better then I had to put in an effort. I wouldn't get better if I sat there moping my entire life. Laughter could be healthy.

"I oughta head to work now, y'all. Will ya be okay?" Soda asked, giving me a skeptical look as if he didn't believe I'd be fine without him there. He probably thought I'd fall over dead or something. That's how he was staring at me, at least.

"We'll be fine," Johnny said before I got the chance to. I was grateful because I doubt I sounded very convincing when I spoke. "I'll watch out for 'im."

"Thanks," Soda said, messing up Johnny's hair. While Johnny groaned and tried to put his hair back, my brother turned to me and pushed my hair back again. I hated my hair because it was long and shabby without grease. "I promise I'll be back later, kiddo. 'kay?"

"Okay," I whispered back. Sodapop leaned down and kissed my forehead lightly.

"I love ya, kiddo."

"Love you, too, Soda," I said, once again yawning. He smiled and messed up Johnny's hair right after he finally fixed it before leaving the room. Johnny didn't even bother trying to fix it this time and sat next to me on the bed.

We just stared at each other for a couple of minutes until he finally broken the silence. "What're you thinkin' 'bout, Pone?"

"How long has it been since I was home?" I asked. I had a feeling about how long it was but I also knew I wasn't thinking clearly while I was gone.

"A month. You've been here for 'bout a week," he said, looking away from me. "You were real sick. They thought you was gonna die. They didn't think you'd make it through the first night. You almost didn't."

"I thought I was gonna die, too," I admitted.

"Were you scared?"

"No. I wasn't scared. I was sad cause I'd miss you guys but I wasn't scared," I tried to explain. He looked back at me with a confused look on his face. I sighed lightly. "I'd be okay if I died. I knew I would be cause I'd be with my parents. But I was sad because I wouldn't be able to see you guys anymore. I missed you all so much. No matter what happened I knew I'd be okay because if I died I'd be with my parents while if I lived I'd be with you all."

"Golly, I missed ya," he said with a small laugh to try to hide the fact that tears had once again appeared in his eyes. I went to say something but I could only yawn. He smiled a little. "You should rest."

I couldn't fight it any longer. I was dead tired. "Can you...uh..." I started off saying but got too shy to let the words out. I felt silly. I only ever asked Sodapop to sleep with me. It was just something he had always done while we were together. I didn't really ask anybody else anything like that.

He grinned, thankfully understanding what I was too nervous to say. "Scoot," he said. I moved over a little in my bed and made room for him. When I did, I noticed that Scruffy was lying in my arms. I don't know how I didn't notice before but I did then and that's all that mattered to me. I held him tighter. He climbed into bed next to me and I laid my head on his chest, not waiting for an invitation to do so. I didn't need one anyways. He started stroking my hair and I smiled. I knew that he was used to being the one people wanted to help. He probably wasn't used to trying to help somebody else who was weaker than him.

"Don't go anywhere, Johnnycake," I mumbled, already half asleep.

"I ain't goin' nowhere, Pone. You're safe now," he said quietly. I curled up a bit more against his side and fell asleep, knowing he was right. I was safe.


	12. Chapter 12 - Dally's Back

**A/N I didn't notice how much Ponyboy and Dallas' relationship seems to be more on the romantic side until I wrote this chapter. Dallas doesn't have any romantic feelings towards Ponyboy. They have a type of relationship that's hard to explain. They're good friends and are closer than brothers. They both find comfort in hearing the other's stories and stuff like that and that's why they're as close to each other as I portray them. There's no romance involved between the two. I'm sorry if anybody had assumed that there was some romance going on between the two. I think that'd be a cute relationship, though. However, there's no romance in this story between anybody.**

***Dally's POV***

When I ran into Two-Bit at Buck's and he told me that the kid had woken up, I ran out of there as fast as I could. He said that he had woken up the day before and he wasn't sure if he was awake again or not. I needed to go see him. I took Buck's car and sped off to the hospital. I had been a mess ever since he went missing. I blew up and attacked everybody I saw. I would have gotten arrested if everybody wasn't afraid that I'd get somebody to go after them for reporting me to the police. Sometimes being an intimidating person has good outcomes. I had avoided the gang most of the time he was missing. I went to see him the day that he was found but after I was told that he might not make it through the night, I had to get out of there. I said goodbye to the kid before running straight to Buck's. I had to stay away from them since that day because I wasn't ready to hear anymore bad news. I didn't want to blow up on them, either. It took me a while to calm down enough to even consider going to see them. Two-Bit found me before I decided to go check up on everybody, though.

We were a gang. I couldn't stay away forever. We were all buddies.

I missed the kid more than I should have. I felt so strongly about the kid. I was losing my mind with worry. It was like he was my kid brother, though he seemed like more sometimes. He was everything to me. I really loved how I was the only person he'd talk to about his experiences. He got me talking a lot and I found out that I wasn't this cold, heartless person. I guess I always knew that but I tried my best to ignore it. If you didn't care then you couldn't get hurt. I felt more relaxed after me and the kid had one of our chats. It seemed so odd to me that I wasn't angry. I couldn't feel anger when talking about something that would normally make me want to smash somebody's head in. That was all probably the pain talking. I felt sadness a lot when talking but it was a welcomed feeling. It was better than feeling nothing or feeling anger. I felt sad for what I went through and for who I lost. I felt sad for how my family was. I felt sad for the kid and what he had been through. He went through so much.

I didn't feel like Dallas Winston when we were talking. Dallas Winston is a hood who has no future and no heart. But when I talked to the kid, I felt like I was a child again. We all grew up too fast. We all knew what it was like to be adults when we were only children. Growing up on the rough side of town, it was hard to find somebody who never had to grow up. Sure, it seemed like we hadn't grown up at all, but we did. Two-Bit had to help raise his kid sister because his dad wasn't around anymore. Steve basically lived on his own. Darry had to learn how to raise Sodapop even when their parents were alive. He had to make sure that Soda would be okay with the Socials swarming greasers around every corner. Johnny, lord, we all knew what he went through. We were all just kids. I wished we could've stayed kids.

I never shared those thoughts with anybody, not even the kid. As far as they were concerned, I was the coldhearted person that I acted like. I opened up to the kid so I'm sure he knew that I was more than just a heartless hood. I hoped so, at least. I didn't want him to have that view on me. I was too proud to change how I was in front of everybody, though. That was something about me I wished I could change.

I went straight to the kid's hospital room, running the entire way there. I came to a stop right outside the door and slowly walked in. I saw Johnnycake laying in bed with the kid. Both of them were asleep. I figured that Two-Bit was telling the truth about Ponyboy waking up the day before because I knew Johnny wouldn't invite himself into the kid's bed like that and sleep. Plus Ponyboy looked different. He didn't look like he couldn't wake up. He just looked like he was asleep. I thought back to how he looked when he was first brought in. He didn't look too much better and that worried me. The bruises hadn't begun to heal yet. He was just as skinny. His skin was just as pale. He looked incredibly sick. I walked over to the two of them and shook Johnny awake. He looked up at me with half opened his. Sleep was keeping it's hold on him. "Hey, Johnnycake," I said quietly.

"He woke up earlier, Dal," he whispered back. "He's just real tired right now..." His voice had started trailing off and he was falling back asleep but his head snapped back up. He was trying hard to stay awake. I wondered how much sleep he got. I knew he didn't get much when I was around. I doubted that changed much.

I smiled at him. Johnny looked at ease and Ponyboy had woken up. That's all I needed to hear. "Sorry for wakin' ya, Johnnycake. Go back to sleep," I said. He nodded and closed his eyes once more, falling back asleep.

I took the seat next to the kid's bed and waited for him to wake up. It had been a long month since he went missing. Missing is the wrong word to use. He was kidnapped right in front of Sodapop and Steve's eyes. It happened right in front of that very hospital. I missed talking to the kid. I missed seeing him and hearing his rare laugh. I missed the way his eyes would light up when me, Sodapop, or Johnnycake came into the room. I missed seeing him get cuddlier when he was really tired. I missed everything about the poor kid. I spent my eighteenth birthday locked away at Buck's, drowning my sorrows instead of wondering what was happening to the kid. Nobody remembered my birthday. There was too much going on. That was okay, though. I didn't like acknowledging my birthday.

I noticed something in Ponyboy's arms. I smiled when I saw that it was his stuffed animal. I have to admit that at first I thought it was a stupid thing. I wondered what thirteen year old sleeps with a stuffed dog. I wondered what boy in general sleeps with any stuffed animal. I quickly realized how big of an ass I was for even questioning it. He had his childhood ripped away from him when he was only a baby. He missed up on growing up properly. He didn't know life outside of that basement when he first came back. It was a comfort for him to be able to hold on to something that connected him to the life he started living as a young boy. It was actually a good thing for him to have it. It not only showed that those men didn't break him from his past completely but it also showed that he was fighting hard to life the way he should have been living. The stuffed animal was normal to him, after all. It wasn't abnormal for a four year old to sleep with a toy. He kept that habit when he got home.

I was grateful for it after a few weeks.

I was sitting there for about twenty minutes when the kid groaned lightly and barely opened his eyes. He stared straight at me for a moment with confusion but then recognition spread across his face and he smiled slightly. "Dal?" he whispered, blinking slowly. He took his hand that wasn't broken and rubbed his eyes. He had a broken wrist.

"Hey, kiddo," I said quietly, standing up to get a closer look at him. Tears welled up in his eyes so suddenly I barely realized it. "Hey, kid, don't cry."

"I was so scared you'd end up in jail," he said, his voice portraying his tears as they ran down his cheeks. I was worried for a moment but relaxed. They weren't tears of sadness. They were tears of relief. Or happiness. Probably both, though.

I smiled at him and shook my head. "Is that really all you were worried about?" I asked him and he nodded. It felt nice that he was worried about me but I also felt guilty. He went through so much. He shouldn't have to worry about me or anybody else. "Docs said you were gonna die. Nice surprise to see that ya didn't."

"I thought I was gonna," he said sheepishly.

"You in pain at all, kid?" I asked, noticing the look the crossed his face as he shifted. It looked like that small movement sent a wave of pain up his body.

He shook his head and bit his lip. "No, I feel numb," he said and I knew immediately that he was lying. I wondered how often he lied to us before.

"Nice try, Ponyboy. What hurts?" I asked, watching him more closely.

"My head kinda does," he mumbled, avoiding my eyes. I gently grabbed his chin and made him look up at me. I was relieved when he didn't flinch. I was actually really happy that he didn't but I was confused, too. He flinched after nine months away from them but he wasn't flinching when he just got back.

"Do you want me to get a nurse? She can give ya medicine to make it go away," I offered and he tensed up. "What is it?" I asked, knowing it had to be something. I didn't know what it was, though.

"I don't want no more medicines," he whispered, shaking his head. "I hate not being able to keep myself awake. I hate not being able to think." He was in tears now. "I don't want no more drugs. I can deal with the headache. Please no more drugs." The relief I felt from a moment before went away. He was about to freak out because I mentioned giving him some medicine. That worried me. He was more scared about medicine than he was about being touched. But it made sense. He was drugged up before so I was sure he was drugged up again.

"They give ya lots of drugs, kiddo?" I asked him. He nodded, still refusing to look at me. "Talk to me 'bout it."

"I can't," he whimpered. "I can barely remember it. Everything is so fuzzy. I could barely tell up from down. I don't...I don't remember everything and that scares me. Dal, they gave me so much."

I felt bad for the kid. He was probably confused about everything if they gave him as much as he made it sound like. I reached for his hand and squeezed it. Almost immediately, he began to calm down. "Alright, kiddo, calm down some. I won't tell the nurse to give ya anythin', 'kay?"

"I think I'm addicted," he said, still crying softly. He pulled his hand away from mine and instead covered his mouth to keep himself quiet after glancing at Johnny. He didn't want to wake him up.

"We'll help ya, 'kay? We'll help work ya through this," I said, pushing his hair back. "Withdrawal will be a bitch, but we'll help ya." He nodded, his quiet sobs becoming less frequent. "Do ya know what they gave ya?"

"No," he whispered, shaking his head lightly. "I wish I did, though."

"Don't cry no more, Ponykid," I said. He lowered his hand and smiled at my nickname for him.

"I missed you all so much."

I wanted to wrap my arms around him and hold him close as he cried but I couldn't bring myself to do so. Johnny was there and I just couldn't push through my pride. I've comforted him a few times but it was alone. I couldn't show just how much I cared for the kid. It wasn't only that, though. I was also really worried that he would start to flinch away from my touch if I got too close. But, at the same time, he was laying in bed with his head on Johnny's chest. Johnny had his arms around the kid and Pony looked okay with that. Still, I didn't want to see him flinch from me.

"I...we missed ya, too," I said, choking back my own tears. Dallas Winston doesn't cry. I was really getting soft for the kid but as much as I hated it, I couldn't stop it. I cleared my throat and looked at the clock on the wall. "Darry should be here soon, I'm sure. See 'im yet?"

"Yeah. You, him, Soda, and Johnny," he whispered. I figured that Sodapop must have told Two-Bit that Pony woke up and then Two-Bit told me. He hadn't seen Steve or Two-Bit yet but I knew that that would change quickly. They'd be around soon.

I took a good look at him and suddenly I saw the boy who was brought in a week before. I saw him covered in dirt and blood and other stuff. I saw him have a mask on him to help him breathe. I saw the way the bone in his wrist poked out awkwardly and the way he was bleeding heavily from his shoulder. Apparently he had been stabbed right before he was found. He was in bad shape then and he still was. He still looked like he was dying in my opinion. He looked like he could die at any second. That scared me.

"What're you looking at me like that for?" he asked, bringing me out of my depressing thoughts. His eyes were half closed but he still managed to stare right at me.

"You look like you're dyin' still," I admitted, reaching over to gently rub his arm.

"I don't feel like I did before."

"Is that good?" I questioned. He nodded a little. "Then good. We don't wanna lose ya." He smiled a little and then gasped. "Pony? You okay? What is it?"

"Nothin'," he said, his body relaxing again. "Johnny's grip tightened. Surprised me is all." I shook my head with a smile and sat back down in the seat. I looked over at Johnny. He was still in a deep sleep. He looked different when he was sleeping. He definitely looked different being the protector instead of being the protected. I think he liked being the protector better. He hated being the pet. But I know he liked it, too. I know he liked the way the gang treated him. I know he liked the feeling of being loved and cared about. I wouldn't admit it but I liked knowing that I was cared about, too.


	13. Chapter 13 - We're Stayin' Right Here

***Ponyboy's POV***

Everybody kept telling me that they thought I was going to die. Maybe they thought I didn't realize how bad off I was. I knew I was dying. I was expecting it. I was surprised when it didn't come. Part of me was saddened by that but I knew it was for the best that I didn't die. I had to stay strong through everything no matter how hard it was going to be, and I knew it was going to be hard. I listened to the doctor talk about my condition when everybody thought I was asleep. It's better I knew everything, though, so I knew exactly what I was dealing with.

The doctor had said that I was healing quite nicely. I had broken ribs and a broken wrist. I shouldn't have been surprised by this because of everything I had been through but I really had no idea that I had any broken bones. I had also been stabbed in my shoulder but I had no idea when. I had no memory of it. That explained why that part of my body was sore. Well, everything was sore once I was more awake. The doctor said that the most worrysome part to him was the withdrawal he feared I'd go through. Dallas was right: It was a bitch.

I couldn't keep anything down. Every little thing I ate or drank kept coming back up. At first everybody thought it was because I had went so long without anything in my body but when I still threw up tiny portions, they realized that it was more than that. They knew about the drugs I was forced to take in the basement and they sat down to talk to me. They asked if I thought I was addicted. I was honest and told them yes. I was going through bad withdrawal. I had to be fed by a tube and liquids had to be injected into my system. It all affected more than just my stomach, though. I had horrible, pounding headaches and I had constant panic attacks. I had a high fever but it wasn't dangerously high. The doctors kept it under control. I wasn't allowed much medicine for the pain because they believed that the longer I was on pain medicine the harder it would be to get through withdrawal.

I had been awake for five days before Soda told me I slept through Thanksgiving. I couldn't stop myself from sobbing. I felt horrible that I ruined their holiday but I also wished I could experience a real Thanksgiving. Sodapop cried with me. I think he understood what I was feeling. He apologized and held me close. It was only me and him in the room so nobody else saw my pathetic little breakdown. I calmed down after a while but I still felt like I had a hole in my heart.

"I've been in the hospital for two weeks now. When can I come home?" I asked once all the tears had stopped.

"Tomorrow, baby, you know that," he said, messing up my hair. I guess I had forgotten that because I really hadn't known.

"Tomorrow for sure?" I questioned. I didn't want to get my hopes up but I really felt like I was going to lose my mind the longer I was away from my home.

"Unless something happens, yes, tomorrow for sure," he said. I nodded but that only made the pounding in my head worse and before I knew it I was on my knees in the bathroom. Soda rubbed my back as I threw up the little I had in my system. I started sobbing again because I felt guilty. The nurse would have to come back and put my IVs back in. I couldn't help the fact that I kept pulling them out. If I could have stopped throwing up as often as I did, I would have. "Shhh, honey, cryin' makes it hurt worse."

"Can you tell the nurse I said sorry?" I asked, wiping my mouth on my sleeve when I was done.

"She understands," he said, helping me stand.

"I don't wanna throw up no more," I sobbed, allowing him to pull me into his chest.

"I know, honey," Soda whispered, rocking us side to side. He sounded worried. I guess I didn't blame him. I had cried more in the five days that I was awake than the nine months I was back at home. I was just so sad and confused. I didn't feel right. He was probably worried about how often I was crying.

"My ribs hurt," I whined, not realizing just how bad they did hurt until I mentioned it. "They hurt real bad, Soda."

"How bad on a scale from one to ten?" he asked, running his fingers up and down my back lightly.

"Twelve," I groaned, depending on him completely to keep me on my feet. He led me out of the bathroom and helped me sit down in bed. He disappeared for a moment as he went to get a nurse. When Soda and the nurse came in my room, I decided to try my luck. "Is there anything I can get to help the pain?" I nearly begged.

She smiled sadly at me. "I'm sorry, hun," she said gently. I sighed and laid my head on my pillow with my eyes shut. I didn't like seeing the needles. When that was finished she asked me the same thing that Sodapop did. She asked how bad the pain was on a scale from one to ten. I didn't answer. I didn't want to. I didn't want to trouble her. She pat my arm as she walked out.

"I'm tired," I whispered, looking at my brother.

"You've slept the past two weeks away, Pone," he said, sitting next to me. I shrugged. There was nothing I could say because it was the truth. I slept a week away and then basically another week since I woke up. I slept away most of the day but it was just sleeping. It wasn't like the sleep I was in before where I couldn't wake up. "Do you wanna go back to sleep?"

"I'm exhausted but I'm tired of sleeping," I said. Sodapop looked like he was going to say something but then there was a knock on the door. A moment later it opened. I saw a woman dressed in a nice dress-suit with her hair pulled up in a tight bun. I looked at Soda to see if he knew who she was but his face was only confused.

"Hello. Ponyboy, is it?" she asked, glancing down at her notes but I knew she was only doing it to seem polite or something. Everybody knew me.

"Yes," I whispered, reaching under the covers to grab at Soda's hand. He slid his hand under the covers and grabbed mine, squeezing reassuringly.

"My name is Jennifer," she said, walking up to my bedside. Both me and Soda watched her closely. New people weren't to be trusted given my situation. "I'm from CPS. The state."

"What?" Soda gasped, standing up so he was in between me and the lady. I only stared at her with wide eyes. "Why are you here? You ain't here to take us away, are ya? Well?"

"No, honey, I just want to talk," she said, giving us a gentle smile. I didn't believe her. "Normally, I would come after a police report has been made, but since everybody has been refusing to talk to the police, I had to come and check up on you myself."

"We ain't been 'refusin''," Soda said, his voice hard but I could tell he was trying to be as nice as possible. "Ponyboy hasn't been in condition for questions. He's slept most of the time. In case you haven't heard, he wasn't doin' very well. Answerin' questions from the fuzz ain't on our list of 'need to do'."

I thought she'd get mad at his behavior but she only smiled. "I understand. You must be Sodapop."

"Where's our case worker?" he snapped.

"She was unable to make this visit. Ponyboy, I have a few questions for you."

"You ain't talkin' to 'im until you promise you ain't takin' us away," Soda said, moving closer to her. It seemed to me like he was trying to intimidate or threaten her. I guess he probably was. That should have frightened me but I was too afraid that the lady would take me away. If Soda scaring her would let me stay with them, then so be it.

"I promise unless I feel like your safety is threatened," she said with that same fake smile she had. Maybe it wasn't fake. Maybe she really wasn't there to take me away, but that didn't stop the fear. I had to act like she was there to take us away so that I wasn't surprised in the end.

"I like living with Darry," I said quickly but quietly. I was starting to have a panic attack. My breathing was fast and heavy and I could feel my heart beating too fast. My body was shaking and I was close to tears. "I love it. I love him. I love Sodapop. I love our friends. I don't wanna be taken away from them again. I wanna stay here forever. I want me and Soda to stay with Darry."

Sodapop turned away from the lady and sat next to me. "Pony, baby, calm down. You ain't goin' nowhere, honey. I'll make sure of it."

"What's got you so worked up, sweety?" Jennifer asked, appearing on my other side.

"You," I gasped out. "Why does everyone wanna take me away from my big brothers? Darry's perfect. He makes sure I eat and sleep. We have running water and we have power. I have clothes that fit. I go to school and make good grades. Never has he hit us. He rarely even hollers at us. We all get along real well. Please, don't take me away from him. Don't take me away from Soda."

"Sweety-" she began but in my state of panic I couldn't help but cut her off.

"I love my brothers and they love me. They do everything they can to keep me safe and happy. It isn't their fault for what happened to me. Nobody could have avoided it. Not them, not my parents, not you, not anybody from the state. I'm happy when I'm home. I wanna go home. Please leave. Please. I just wanna go home."

"Please leave," Sodapop said too roughly, glaring up at her. "He's in no condition for this. I'm sure you've heard 'bout his condition. He's not okay right now. Leave." He turned back to me. "Baby, you need to calm down. She ain't takin' you or me away. You're stayin' with us. We won't lose ya again."

"I just want to ask him a few questions about the day he was kidnapped again," Jennifer whispered, sounding hurt and sorry. I didn't care. I was too scared.

"He took me so suddenly. It happened in a few seconds. We were waiting for Darry to come with the car. There were people around. There were doctors and nurses. It was right outside. Soda tried to stop it. He tried. It ain't nobody's fault," I nearly yelled. Sodapop wrapped his arms tight around me, rocking me side to side. "I can't live without my brothers again. Please, just go. I can't live without th-"

"What's going on here?" I heard the nurse say. It was the nurse who kept having to put my IVs back in my arm.

I looked up at her, full on bawling by that point. I couldn't be taken away. I couldn't stay calm. All I could think was that I was going to lose my brothers once again. I was going to lose them for the third time and this time it would be by people who said they wanted to help. I don't think that that's why she was there but at that moment I couldn't think rationally. "Please make her leave," I begged the nurse. "I don't want to lose my brothers."

"Baby, she ain't takin ya," Soda kept repeating. He was trying his hardest to calm me down. It wasn't working. I couldn't calm down. I wouldn't calm down until she was far away from the hospital.

"I'm only here to talk," Jennifer said, gently touching my shoulder. She was being genuine, but I couldn't handle it at that time.

"I want Darry," I sobbed into Sodapop's chest. "Where's Darry? He'll make her go away."

"We'll get 'im here soon, Pony. I'll have the doctors call 'im to come here straight 'way, 'kay?" Sodapop said quietly in my ear. I nodded, still unable to stop myself from crying. A few minutes later, all I heard was Sodapop's voice and both of our breathing.

"Are they gone?" I asked him quietly.

"Yeah, honey, they're gone," he said, rubbing circles into my back.

"Nobody taking us?"

"No, honey. We're stayin' right here with Darry."

I tensed up at Darry's name. "Where is he? I wanna see him."

"I'm sure he'll be here soon. The nurse is gonna call 'im. They said you can come home today. I guess the nurse saw how bad ya want us," he said, his voice soothing me. It took a while but I was slowly calming down.

"I can come home today?" I asked, hopeful.

"Yes, Pony."

"Soda, I'm hungry," I said, suddenly noticing the hunger. I hadn't been hungry at all but I was then. I didn't feel like I was going to throw up, either. I wanted real food, not the stuff they had to tube feed me.

"I'm surprised," he said, running his fingers through my hair. "You barely kept anythin' down here an' you haven't been hungry."

"I didn't eat when I was there," I whispered. "Not one bite."

"Nothin'?" he asked, holding me tighter. He didn't seem surprised by my statement but he still looked upset.

"No. I was starving but I was so out of it I barely noticed."

"I doubt the hospital food is any good," he said, rubbing my stomach gently. "Feel like waitin' a bit longer? We can get ya somethin' good to eat when we take ya outta here."

"I'd love that," I said, sighing in content. I really would love that. I was craving fries and a Pepsi. Soda repositioned me on the bed so he was laying behind me and I was leaning back against him. My head fell on his shoulder. I was sitting in between his legs. He continued to rub my stomach and run his fingers through my hair. It was working to keep me calm but it was only making me want to sleep more. "Soda, I'm tired."

"Sleep for a bit. I promise I'll wake ya when Darry gets 'ere, 'kay?" he said softly in my ear. I only nodded, letting my eyes shut. I think I fell right asleep because that's the last thing I remember.

I woke up to Soda shaking me and whispering my name. I don't know how light shaking and whispering could wake me - or anyone - up, but that's how they all woke me up. Whenever it was time to get me up, they were gentle and quiet about it. That makes no sense to me, and neither does the fact that it actually works. "Pony, honey, time to get up. Darry's here," he was whispering. I wondered how long he had been shaking me. It felt like I had only been asleep a moment.

"Darry?" I mumbled, trying to force my eyes open.

"I'm here, little buddy," he said and I felt his hand grab the top of mine and squeeze. "Ready to come home, kiddo?"

"Mhmm," I sighed, finally getting my eyes open. I saw Darry sitting on the bed next to me and Sodapop. I sat up slowly and reached over to hug Darry. I laid my head on his shoulder. "A lady came here."

He hugged me back tight yet gentle. "I heard. You're okay, though. Ain't nobody takin' you two, got it?"

"How can you two be so sure?" I asked, lifting my head to look at him.

He smiled at me and pushed my hair out of my face. "Cause I wouldn't let them. I ain't gonna let nobody take either of ya," he answered. I stared at him for a moment longer before nodding. I knew Darry would protect us. He wouldn't let Soda or me get taken away. He needed us just as much as we needed him. "Now let's get ya out of here. What doya say?"

"Yes, please," I said, biting back a smile. He ruffled my hair before standing up.

"Me an' Soda'll be right outside while you get changed, 'kay?" he asked, reaching down to beside my bed to pick up the bag of my clothes they had brought in a few days before. He handed it to me as Soda slid out of bed (after kissing the top of my head).

When they were outside, I shred the hospital gown I had to wear. I stepped into the bathroom to look at my body before I put clothes on. It wasn't anything I wasn't used to seeing. I was covered in bruises that were barely fading. I had taken a peek when I took a shower the day before. I wasn't able to look for long because the nurse probably would've came in when she didn't hear the shower start. I looked at the new and old scars covering my body. Some of the newer scars weren't exactly scars yet because they were still healing. I couldn't even see what was underneath my bandaged ribs. I could only imagine how horrible they looked when they felt as badly as they did.

I changed my underwear quickly because I hated the vulnerable feeling I had without them. I hated the vulnerable feeling I had without any clothes on but it was worse wearing absolutely nothing. I pulled on my jeans next. I pretended not to notice how they hung lower on my hips than they did before. Next I pulled on one of the shirts that had only belonged to me. Most of my clothes were hand-me-downs from Sodapop but through the months I had been home, Darry was able to buy all of us some new clothes. It was only a couple of shirts and a nicer pair of pants but that was okay. I didn't mind wearing hand-me-downs. They were usually too big on me but Darry had bought me a belt to help. The jeans I had just put on were ones that used to belong to Sodapop so I had to wear that belt. The shirt was bigger on me than before but it still fit better than most of the other shirts I owned.

The shoes I had were the shoes that the nurses had bought me when I was first brought home from the basement. It had been about ten months since then and they were small. I went through a small growth spurt since I had been found. It wasn't much of a growth spurt. I had grown a couple inches and my feet got a little bigger. I could still wear the shoes I had but I knew that Darry had been talking about getting me a new pair when he could. He wanted to get me a track pair, though, to make running easier for me. He had said that he wanted to see how fast I could run wearing proper shoes, because if I could run that fast with regular shoes that were too small for me I had to be capable of running faster. Part of me really did want the shoes but I told Darry that it was no big deal. I didn't want him to try to fit it into our budget when he had enough to worry about. There had been plenty of times we could afford getting me new shoes but I'd convince him not to get them for me.

I combed my hair back with my fingers before sighing gently and leaving the bathroom. I opened the door and saw my brothers leaning against the wall. "Ready, kiddo?" he asked. I nodded and he handed me a jacket. At first I was confused as to why I needed one and then I remembered what time of the year it was. It was October before I left. It was the first week of December then. It was bound to be cold. "I already signed ya out so let's go."

Sodapop had told him how I mentioned I was hungry so he offered to take us to the Dingo. We agreed because I guess Soda was hungry, too. I felt bad. I could only imagine how much they went through when I was gone. They probably were too worried to eat and I doubted they had much sleep. Even when I was in the hospital I was sure they had suffered from worry. I sighed quietly to myself when we got to the Dingo. Things could only get better from then. Darry and Soda would eat and sleep more and maybe one day I'd stop crying all the time. All I could focus on then was making things better for my brothers.

"What doya want, Pone?" Darry asked when we pulled in. We could've gotten out to go eat inside but we felt it was better to stay in and not attract too much attention. I was a news story, after all, and there was always that chance that a Soc would be looking for some trouble. Socs would go to the Dingo looking for trouble and then act all shocked when a swarm of greasers jumped them. They were so full of themselves that they thought they'd be okay at a greaser hangout like the Dingo. My brothers all laughed at that so much. Even I thought it was amusing.

"Fries and a Pepsi," I answered, looking at Soda who grinned. That's what I had the first time I had been at the Dingo.

Apparently the fact that we stayed in the car made no difference. There were people staring intently at us. The greasers all grinned and waved at us but then we noticed that there was a Mustang pulled up. Greasers were all hanging around it and causing trouble with the Socs that were inside. Soda glanced back at me but tried not to look too concerned for me. That failed, obviously. "What're they doin' 'ere?" Soda wondered out loud.

"Lookin' for trouble like always," Darry grumbled, shutting the truck off.

"Should we leave?" Soda whispered in I think an attempt to make sure I didn't hear. Of course I heard, though. He probably wanted to leave for one of two reasons. The first reason would be so I didn't see a fight, and the second would be to make sure the Socs wouldn't start in on me like they always did when they saw me.

"Probably," Darry answered, glancing at me in the window.

"I'm gonna have to stand up for myself at some point," I said and immediately wished I hadn't. I knew if I had been put in a situation where I needed to stand up for myself I wouldn't do it. "Besides, we don't know if they're going to bother us, and everybody here would stand up for me instead. They usually do."

Darry looked like he wanted to disagree with me but ended up reluctantly nodding his head. "If you're sure..."

Nothing happened while we were there. We ordered, ate, and then left. We had some greasers come up to our truck and talk to us, but that was all the excitement we had to deal with. It didn't take us long to make it back home. It felt real nice seeing the house. I was too busy staring at it that I had forgotten to get out of the car until Soda called my name and asked if I was alright. "Just good to be back," I had answered before sliding out of the car and following my brothers inside. It felt strange to be inside my house, but at the same time, I actually felt like I had belonged there for the first time.


	14. Chapter 14 - Full of Questions

Being at home didn't stop my nightmares or my tears as much as I had hoped. That night me and Sodapop went into our room to sleep, but I was awake two hours later in hysterics. I don't remember what it was exactly that I had dreamed about, but it scared me to death. Soda woke up the moment I started hyperventilating. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. "Shh, Pone, I got ya," he whispered. I couldn't stop the quick breathing and I couldn't stop the crying. I was just so scared and the pain in my body had intensified through the night, especially in my ribs.

I let out a groan through my tears and wrapped my arms around my stomach. "Hurts," I managed to whimper in between breaths.

He dropped a hand to my stomach and began to rub my side gently. "It'll be okay. Just breathe for me," he said, rocking us side to side gently. "Deep breaths, Pony."

I focused on his breathing in order to slow mine down. I felt whenever he took a breath and I tried to match it. It worked after a while and my breathing had slowed and my tears had stopped. "Sorry, Soda," I mumbled as he settled both of us back down in bed so we were no longer sitting up. "You shouldn't have to deal with that all the time."

"Nonsense," he said, pulling the blanket around us and draping his arm across my chest. "I don't mind one bit. Now let's get some sleep."

I ended up falling back asleep after only five minutes of laying there. When I woke up next I was alone and disoriented. I couldn't tell where I was for a moment so I didn't move, expecting the worst. When the worst didn't come, I sat up and my eyes adjusted. I was just in my room so I had nothing to worry about. I rolled out of bed, biting my lip so I didn't cry out in pain from my ribs. The pain was easy to handle for the most part, but it still hurt pretty badly.

I walked out of my room rubbing my eyes and went to the living room. The only person there was Dallas. "Hey, Dal," I whispered. He looked up at me and grinned. "Where is everyone?"

"Soda and Darry are at work, and the rest are at school," he said, watching me as I sat down in Darry's chair. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on top of them. "How ya sleep?"

"Good. I'm still tired, though," I answered honestly. I had slept fine when I fell back asleep, but I didn't feel rested. "Don't wanna sleep anymore."

"You've been sleepin' so much but you're always tired," he said, sighing. "That don't make no sense."

"The doctors tried to explain it to me. They said that my body is trying to catch up on sleep, so I'm sleeping but I'm not resting too well just yet. I don't know. I think he explained it in more detail to Darry," I explained. "I told the doctor that I was asleep a lot of the time I was gone, but he still said my body is catching up on sleep."

"I ain't got a clue, but it really don't matter why," he said with a shrug. "How ya feelin'? You in pain?"

"My ribs hurt. Dally, when can I get aspirin or something to make the pain go away?"

"Ya can't, Ponykid," he said. Despite the fact that he said I couldn't take anything for the pain, I smiled at my nickname. It was like Johnny with Johnnycake. "Doctors orders."

"Will I ever be able to take aspirin again?"

"Eventually," he said. "Ya look sick, kid. Ya feelin' alright?" I nodded. I had a headache and my ribs hurt, but that was about it. I didn't feel like I was going to throw up, so that was a bonus. I was a little worn out and very tired, but that was it. All in all, it was probably the best I felt since I was found. Physically. "Are ya hungry?"

"No. Do you know when I'll start school again?" I asked.

He smirked at me. "All 'bout school for ya, ain't it? I dunno. You'll havta ask your brothers 'bout that later."

"Do you miss New York?" I asked, knowing my question was sudden. I didn't even know where it came from, but it was too late to take it back.

My question obviously caught him off guard, too. "Well, yeah. I miss New York a lot," he answered almost hesitantly.

"Do you ever want to go visit? Not live there again but just see it again?"

"Sometimes," he said, looking at me funny. "Why?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "Just wondering. Why do you treat me and Johnny different than everybody? Why do you treat me and Johnny different than each other, too?"

He sighed and pushed himself back into the couch. "Cause y'all quiet and ya know what it's like ta hurt. Johnny can take care of 'imself when he needs ta but you can't. Ya just let it happen, an' nobody could blame ya for that. We get what you been through, but it makes ya an easy target. It's our job ta look out for ya. Johnnycake, too, a course. Ya both keep ta yourselves an' all that an' there's just somethin' innocent 'bout the both of ya," he said, not looking at me as he spoke. He seemed nervous almost. "An' well, part of it's personal. Like who ya are as a person an' not what you've been through. Both of ya are kinder than anybody else an' ya see more to a person than greaser an' Soc. I'm a hood but both of y'all ain't treat me like y'all are scared a me. Soda had bad grades an' he's a drop out but y'all don't treat 'im like he's dumb. Two-Bit drinks all day long but y'all don't treat 'im as a drunk. Ya get it?"

I nodded because I really did. I got what he was saying. He watched out for me and Johnny because we were the two who were easier targets. Johnny lived with abuse for his whole life, and everybody knows about what I went through in the basement. Part of it was pity, and I could respect that. I didn't like being pitied but I understood that aspect of it. The other part was because me and Johnny treated everybody the same. We didn't judge and stereotype everybody. Soda was a dropout, but he wasn't dumb. Two-Bit liked to drink, but he wasn't a drunk. Dallas was a hood, but he wasn't dangerous around us. Steve was rude and cocky, but he wasn't all about himself. Darry liked to take control, but he wasn't bossy. Stuff like that made Dallas treat me and Johnny differently than he treated everybody else. We saw everybody as actual people.

"I get it, Dally," I said, and he smiled at me. "So why do you treat me and Johnny different than each other?"

"Cause ya both are different people," he said simply. That also made sense. Me and Johnny weren't the same so he had no reason to treat us the same.

"Do you ever wish you hadn't met any of us?" I asked. I didn't think he did but I just had to ask to make sure.

"Never, kid. Y'all are my family," he said and gave me his signature look which basically said 'tell anybody I said that and you'll get it.' He acted really differently when it was just me and him. If I had asked that question around the gang, he probably would have scoffed and said yes because we don't like action as much as him, or something like that. He would lie or manipulate his words when other people were around so he didn't seem soft or caring. When it was just me and him, though, I got the full honest truth. I wondered if anybody would believe it if I told them how he acted around me. At the same time, however, I had a feeling everybody knew that there was more to Dallas than what he let on.

"Why don't you want anybody to see how nice you are?"

He smiled ruefully at me. "It's easier that way for me." I didn't bother asking him how because I didn't think he even knew the answer to that. I figured that was enough personal questions from me so I only nodded and hugged my knees tighter to my chest. "What's on your mind, kiddo?"

I bit my lip, debating on whether I should lie or be honest. I decided that the least I could do was be honest. He was being truthful with me so I should do the same. "I was just wondering...what do you think life would've been like if I hadn't been born?" I asked. He gave me a shocked look at my question but I didn't give him the chance to answer just yet. "I mean...Darry and Soda wouldn't have had to grow up knowing they had a little brother out there all alone. Steve, too, since he had known me. Soda and Darry probably went through a lot emotionally because of it. It sounds like they did. My parents, too. Maybe things could have been different for them if I was never around. Maybe they wouldn't be gone right now. They were alive, but when I came back they died. They were on the way to the school for me." My voice cracked as I tried to hold back my tears. I had known for a long time that they died because they were doing something for me. It wasn't a secret. Before they died, I had known they were going to figure something out for school for me. Then they died. It was because of me. "Maybe if they never gave birth to me...things would be different. Soda and Darry would still have mom and dad...All of you guys would. My family wouldn't have had to grow up wondering if I was dead or alive, and then questioning which one was worse...me being dead or me being alive...Do you think things would be better for everyone if I wasn't here?"

He stared at me for a moment before standing up and walking over to the chair. He sat down on his knees in front of me and put both of his hands on my arms. "Listen to me real good, kiddo, 'kay?" he requested, not demanded, and I nodded. "Things wouldn't be better without ya, and don't ya dare go blamin' yourself for what happened. You ain't to blame for your family worryin' 'bout ya while you were gone. Ya didn't ask for those bastards to take ya. Hell, kid, the boys an' I worried even though we didn't know ya. You ain't to blame for any of it, an' ya sure ain't to blame for what happened to your parents, man. Accidents happen. They happen with or without ya here. We don't know what would've happened if ya weren't born. Maybe they would've died ten years earlier. That's somethin' nobody is ever gonna know, so don't ya be worryin' 'bout the 'what ifs', ya hear? Things would have been different for all of us if you weren't ever born, but that don't mean they would've been better. 'Kay?"

I wiped the tears away from my eyes. "Are you sure?" I whispered.

"I'm sure, Ponykid," he said, ruffling my hair. "What's got ya thinkin' like that?"

"I don't know...I just wish nobody had to worry about me so much," I said, looking away. I really didn't know where those thoughts came from. I wanted them to go away. They were giving me even worse thoughts. I was wondering what it would be like if I just stopped living. But I knew that was impossible. I couldn't leave everybody like that after everything they went through. Though sometimes it's okay to be selfish... I shook my head, knowing I should tell somebody about my thoughts. I could tell Dallas, but I think he'd just follow me everywhere if I did. I could tell Johnny, but he'd probably tell everybody else. Or I could also tell Sodapop, but I doubted I would be able to handle the heartbroken look he'd have on his face or see the tears I caused.

"We're always gonna worry 'bout ya, even fifty years from now when everythin' is okay," he said, using his soft voice that he saved only for me. "It's what family does." I nodded because I understood. Family worries about each other. It wouldn't ever change. We'd all worry about each other, but me and Johnny were the ones they openly showed. "Anything else ya need to ask or talk 'bout?"

"How long did you live in New York?"

He smirked. "More questions 'bout New York? 'Bout three years. Came 'ere after I got out a jail."

"Where'd you live before New York?"

"Different places," he said with a casual shrug. "I don't 'member too much 'bout all that, though. I was young. I think we lived 'ere for a while, and maybe some other places. My ol' man moved us 'round a lot."

"Can we go for a walk?"

He let out a loud laugh. "You're crazy, kid. You're mind is all over the place today. Sure, we can go for a walk. Go get ready an' I'll call an' let your brothers know."

I pulled on a random pair of jeans and a sweatshirt without the sleeves. Both used to belong to Sodapop, so I needed my belt. There wasn't anything I could do about my shirt, but having a shirt too big wasn't too much of a problem. I needed my jacket anyways because it was chilly outside. Then I slid on my shoes and made my way to the bathroom. After brushing my teeth, I combed my hair back and greased it. I missed showing off the fact that I was a greaser. Everybody said that it was a good thing I wanted to show off being a greaser. They said that I was proud of it. They were right, of course. Sometimes I wondered if they knew me better than I knew myself. I wouldn't be surprised. I sat on the couch and waited for Dallas. He was on the phone with Sodapop. I heard him talking to Steve before so I knew he called the DX.

When he hung up the phone, he grinned at me. "Ready to go, kiddo?" he asked me and I nodded. "Where ya want to head ta?"

"I don't know. I just want to get out the house. Is that okay?"

"Course it is, Ponykid. Probably been goin' crazy stuck in that hospital room," he said, holding out his hand to pull me up from the couch. "I got strict orders from Sodapop to bring ya back 'ome in an hour. That cool?"

"That's okay," I agreed. That's all I really needed. I was just beginning to feel claustrophobic a bit. He ruffled my hair and I swatted his hand away, fixing my hair. He chuckled and rolled his eyes before walking out the house, me right behind him. The world was bright but anything would be bright compared to what I saw while I was gone, which was darkness. My eyes were more sensitive then than they had been in months but that was to be expected. I didn't let it bother me. Instead, I just kept my eyes cast down towards the ground. I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked real close to Dallas. I felt him glance at me continuously, but he didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say, I guess. I didn't mind the silence. The silence just let me think. The thoughts may not have been the best, but I couldn't help but think them. I wondered what it would be like if I just stopped existing. I scared myself with those thoughts but the idea of not existing was somewhat pleasing.


	15. Chapter 15 - Attempt

**A/N I'm sorry that this chapter won't be too detailed and seems poorly written. I guess it is poorly written. It took me so long to get to writing this chapter (and the reason will be apparent once you read it if the title of the chapter didn't give it away). Sorry for the people who like detail in these kinds of scenes. I could do a detailed scene of this, but I can't do it in this story I guess. Not from Pony's point of view, at least. It makes me uncomfortable. This is actually a really bad and poorly written chapter. It's important, though, so it's not like it's a filler or anything. Sorry!**

The walk didn't help me as much as I had thought it would. When we got back to the house, I still had that same claustrophobic feeling I had that caused me to want to leave in the first place. I tried to explain that feeling to Dallas, but I wasn't so sure if he understood me or not. He did take me out back so we could still be outside. It didn't help too much but it was still better than sitting inside. I laid down in the yard with one arm behind my head to use as a pillow and the other wrapped around my stomach. Dallas sat on the steps leading up to the house. I knew he was watching me. I could feel his eyes on me even though mine were closed.

"What're ya thinkin' 'bout?" he asked after a long while. I stayed quiet and decided to just pretend that I had fallen asleep. I didn't want to lie to him, but I also didn't want to answer his question. Faking being asleep was my best option. I heard him sigh and a minute later he had picked me up. I curled closer to him as if I was really asleep, but it wasn't a fake movement. I felt safe when I was close to him, or any of the gang. He carried me inside and laid me down on the couch. I was grateful that he didn't take me to my room. "Get some rest, kid."

I didn't have the energy to move or anything so I just laid there with my eyes closed for the rest of the afternoon. I didn't want to eat, sleep, talk, or move. I lost the motivation to do anything. My life really did suck, and I wanted to go through with the thoughts that had been intruding my head that day. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of it before then, but they were never as serious as they were at that time. I just wanted my life to end for good so I wouldn't have to suffer anymore. I figured I could end it. It'd be easy. I wasn't a stranger to pain, so I wasn't scared. It'd only hurt for a moment.

When Johnny, Steve, and Two-Bit came home from school, I pretended to wake up. "You been sleepin' all day, kiddo?" Two-Bit asked me. I nodded, rubbing my eyes. I hated lying, but it didn't seem right to tell them that I just couldn't make myself get up and do anything.

"He hasn't ate yet," Dallas informed them.

"I'll just wait for dinner," I said before any of them could offer to get me something to eat. I hated that they went out of their way for me. I mean I liked it, but I felt guilty for it. "It isn't that long from now. I can wait."

Johnny sat down beside me and gave me one of his questioning looks. I nodded, letting him know I was okay. He shook his head, saying he didn't believe me. He dropped it there, though. I went to the kitchen to start dinner. I wanted it to be done by the time Darry and Soda got home so that was one less thing they had to worry about. I made spaghetti because I didn't feel like doing much else. I stayed in the kitchen alone while I made spaghetti, but I could feel people walk by the room and peeking in when my back was towards the door. They were keeping an eye on me, and I couldn't figure out why. They didn't know my thoughts. I suppose it was because they were worried somebody would take me away again, but I was safe in my own home. Safe from those men, at least.

Almost as soon as I finished dinner, Sodapop came running in the house with his shoes already off. He hated wearing shoes. I couldn't blame him. It was amusing watching his hatred for them sometimes. He tossed his shoes down the hall toward the bedrooms and came into the kitchen as he shouted a hello to everybody. "Oh, hey, kiddo," he said, obviously surprised to see me standing in the kitchen. "Whatcha doin'?"

"I decided to cook dinner. Is that okay?" I asked, glancing at him over my shoulder.

"Course it is, but ya didn't havta," he said, carefully putting his hand on my back as he stood beside me. Every touch of theirs was careful as if they were scared I'd crumble. I guess I couldn't blame them. I was prone to flinching at everything. Not like they blamed me for that, of course.

"I know I didn't, but I don't mind cooking," I said with a shrug. "Spaghetti okay?"

"That's mighty fine," he said, dipping his finger into the sauce and licking it. I made a face, and he laughed. "Aw, shoot, kid, we're brothers. Who cares?"

"I wasn't exactly hoping to eat grease and oil for dinner," I said, biting my lip so I didn't laugh. He looked confused for a minute and then made a face of disgust as it hit him that his fingers had grease on them from working at the DX.

"Aw, gross," he whined, hurrying over to the fridge. I watched in amusement as he pulled out a carton of chocolate milk and chugged it. "Sorry, Pone. Hopefully it won't mess up the taste."

"I'm sure it won't," I said, chuckling. I rolled my eyes at him and started dishing the spaghetti out onto plates.

"Did you make sure to not do much today?" he asked as he washed his hands.

"Yeah. I slept most of the day, aside from that walk for the most part," I answered, staring at the plates instead of my brother. It wasn't a big lie but I still felt horrible for saying it.

"Good. Gotta get those ribs healed up. They hurt bad?"

"No, not too bad."

"Wanna talk 'bout last night?"

"What's to talk about?" I asked softly, turning to lean against the counter and look at him. He was already staring at me. "I had a nightmare."

"Wanna tell me what it was 'bout?" he asked, refusing to look away from my eyes.

"I can't remember it," I admitted. "All my memories are fading into each other, and nothing makes too much sense. I don't remember a lot from the past few weeks. I don't know what I dreamed about. Is that normal?"

"Sure it is, Pone," he said, coming over to stand in front of me. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "You went through a lot, and because of different circumstances, ya just can't 'member it all too well."

"I don't know if I'd rather not remember or if I'd rather remember it all..."

He gave me a gentle smile. "It's best not to wonder 'bout that. It ain't gonna change nothin'."

I sighed. "I guess you're right. When can I go back to school?"

He laughed loudly and shook his head. "School? Really?" he asked and I nodded. "Well, kiddo, I think Christmas break is in like a week or so. Wanna go back before or after?"

"Before," I said, biting my lip. There was no point in that conversation. I wouldn't make it to school. I had my night planned out.

"We'll talk to Darry an' see what he says 'bout it, 'kay?"

"Okay."

Darry came home soon after and we all sat around, eating dinner. Everybody joined us for dinner, but nobody minded the company. It was nice spending my last day with them. Well, my last meal. I went straight to my room afterwards, not wanting to be around anybody any longer. I didn't want to risk changing my mind. I wouldn't live with the pain any longer. It was too much to bare.

I faked being asleep when Sodapop came in for bed. He sighed quietly as he got into bed. He had stripped off his clothes and got in beside me. He whispered in my ear that he loved me (which made me doubt my plan for a moment) before pulling me close and going to sleep. I waited an hour after the house was silent to slide out of bed. I stared down at Sodapop for a moment before muttering a sorry and going to the bathroom with the switchblade he kept in the desk. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. I saw just how damaged I really was. I looked dead as it was. I might as well have been dead. I put my hand on the mirror and stared directly into my own eyes. They were completely gray. No green were left in my eyes.

I pulled off the sweatshirt I was wearing and looked at my bare arms. Holding the blade to my wrist, I closed my eyes. Just as I pressed the blade into my wrist, the door opened. I dropped the blade and spun around, my eyes wide open. I was face-to-face with Johnny, who mirrored my look. He looked as if he hadn't ever went to sleep. Knowing Johnny, I wouldn't be surprised if he knew my plan. He could read people real well, especially me. Sometimes I wondered if he could read minds. He had probably been waiting up for me. Although, he probably just heard me get up and was coming to make sure I was okay. They were always trying to make sure that I was okay. "What are ya doin'?" he asked in a whisper, taking a step towards me.

"I...I..." I stuttered but I couldn't find any words to say. He grabbed my wrist gently and I completely lost it. I started screaming and fighting to get away from him. I think I actually hit him a few times, but I can't be sure. "LET GO OF ME!" I screeched, pushing on his chest.

"What's goin' on?!" I heard Soda shout from our bedroom. I started sobbing.

"Get off!" I begged when Johnny only tightened his grip on me. "Let me do it!"

"Johnny, Pony, what's goin' on?" Darry asked. I heard Soda's feet running down the hall to the bathroom and stopping at the door.

"He was gonna kill 'imself," Johnny said quietly. I don't know why he was talking quietly when I was still screaming at the top of my lungs.

"Thank god you stayed the night tonight, Johnny, thank god," I heard Soda say. His voice was shaking with tears, but the disbelief was evident in it. He probably believed Johnny but the whole meaning behind his sentence didn't hit Soda yet. That's just how Soda was.

"Baby, shh," Darry whispered in my ear. Johnny's arms were replaced with Darry's. "Ponyboy, stop screamin', please."

"Let me do it, let me die, let me go," I sobbed, pounding against his chest and shoulders.

"Shh, Pone, I an't lettin' ya go," he said as he rocked me back and forth. "Talk to us, honey."

"I can't live with the memories. I can't live with the pain. It hurts so bad. Darry, please, it hurts," I cried, giving in to his strong grip and wrapping my arms around his neck. "It hurts, Dare."

"I know, but we'll help ya," he whispered. I shook my head and went back to fighting against him. "Soda, help me."

Their arms were both around me and holding me down. That only made me cry harder. "Let go!" I pleaded, squirming against their hold. "Let go, let go, let go. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry."

"Baby, you needta calm down," Soda said soothingly in my ear. "Calm down an' we can talk, 'kay?"

"I just wanna die!" I wailed.

"If he doesn't calm down, we're takin' 'im to the hospital," Darry said. He obviously wasn't talking to me.

"Maybe Dallas can help...Ya know how they talk an' all," Soda said quietly. At least he was trying to prevent me from hearing. I don't know what the point was of talking about me like I wasn't in their arms. "Johnnycakes, ya know where Dal is?"

"He's at Buck's," Johnny answered. "Wanna bring Pony there?"

"No. I don't think Pony'll like that attention," Darry said with a sigh. I felt horrible for putting them through as much as I was. Even when I was trying to end that it got worse. It must have been unbearable for them if they needed to get someone else to help them with me. I knew I must have taken them by surprise with my almost-actions. They were probably as lost as I was. "Can ya come with me to go get 'im, though?"

"Sure, man."

Then they were gone and it was just me and Sodapop left in the bathroom. I didn't stop sobbing. "Pony, baby, we ain't gonna let ya do this," he whispered. He was crying nearly as hard as I was, but just not as loud. "We can't go on without ya."

"You did it for nine years," I said with a loud whimper.

"Doesn't mean we were okay. We were miserable without ya. We were miserable when they took ya again," he said, holding my face in both of his hands. "Oh my god, don't make us live without ya again. Let us help make it better for ya. Let us in."

"Everything hurts. I'm so scared, and I can barely remember what's scaring me. I feel like things would be so much better for all of you if I wasn't. Maybe you'd still have mom and dad..."

I knew I had talked to Dallas about all of that, but it was still in my head. I couldn't help but blame myself. I didn't think I'd ever stop. It was obvious how much pain and misery I had caused just from being born. I wanted to fix that by ending my life. That made the most sense to me at that time.

"No. Don't you ever think like that, ya hear? Never," he said and pulled me into a tight hug. I clung to him and we sobbed in each other's arms. I wanted to grab the blade I brought but I didn't know where it fell. I wanted to slit my throat or something that would end my life quickly because I couldn't handle much more. Seeing my brothers cry only made that feeling worse since I had been the cause. I just wanted to end.

***Dally's POV***

I heard an unmistakable voice yelling my name. It was Johnny. I searched the group of people until I saw his black hair. I didn't even notice Darry at first until I started making my way over to them. Johnny sounded terrified, so I knew that something serious was wrong. I pushed past everybody and got to them, pulling Johnny by his jean jacket until we got outside. I didn't want people eavesdropping on our conversation. It was bound to be private.

"What's up?" I asked the two of them.

"Pony was gonna kill 'imself. We can't get 'im to calm down. We need your help," Darry said, sounding panicked. I knew it was more serious than it sounded because Darry was asking for help which was something he never did. It sounded serious as it was but that just made a terrible situation even more horrible. Ponyboy was going to kill himself. I knew that something was really up with him, but I didn't think he'd go that far.

"Let's go," I said and we ran to the truck. Darry sped off and in no time we were at his house. I was already out and running up the porch by the time he took his keys out of the ignition. I threw the door open and listened. I heard crying. I followed the crying until I got to the bathroom. Ponyboy and Sodapop were clinging to each other in the middle of the bathroom while they both cried.

"Everythin' okay?" Darry called out as he ran in the house.

"Yeah," I yelled back. I'm sure he knew it wasn't really okay, but I knew he was just asking if anybody was hurt. He knew how messed up the situation was. Both of the crying boys pulled away from each other and looked up at me. I sat down with my back against the wall. "Sounds like it's been a long night."

"You could say that," Soda said quietly, wiping his eyes. Pony, however, kept bawling and wouldn't stop. "Can ya please talk to 'im? I don't know what else to do or say. He won't calm down."

"Yeah, I'll handle this," I said. He nodded and walked out, giving Ponyboy the saddest look I've ever seen from Sodapop. I knew Sodapop and Darry must have been desperate. They never turned to any of us to help with the kid, so they couldn't have had any idea of what to do. The fact that they needed my help was probably killing them as much as the situation itself. I shut the bathroom door when Soda walked out before moving closer to Pony. I put my hand on his shoulder and felt him flinch. "So I heard you're actin' stupid. That true?"

"It ain't stupid," he whimpered, moving away from me. I didn't reach out for him again. I knew not to overdo it with him. He could be unpredictable sometimes. He was never that unpredictable until he came back the second time, though. He was doing and saying things that weren't normal for him.

"Course it's stupid," I shot back. "What exactly are you expectin' ta happen if you're dead? If what you say makes real sense, then, by god, I'll walk out of here and distract your brothers while you end it all."

He looked up at me with shocked eyes that held relief as well as other emotions such as fear and sadness. "If they don't have to worry about me anymore, they can move on from their life," he said, barely louder than a whisper. "It ain't fair that they're living like this when they could be doing other things. Darry could have actually gone to school since he had Soda here. It'd be easier to pay for things, too, without me here. Just...they'd have a shot at life again. They lost their shot at life when mom and dad...died. They gave it up for me. They could get it back if I weren't here."

"What the hell would that fix?" I asked, not trying to keep my voice gentle. I knew it'd make him flinch but I was also positive that he knew I would never hurt him. The look in his eyes told me that even as he jumped and moved a little bit farther away from me. "Sure, they'd have another shot, but they wouldn't take it. They'd be missin' out on both parents and their kid brother. Soda and Darry could do whatever the hell they want with their life in four years when you're eighteen. Besides, what else would they actually want? Darry could go to college, sure, but would he even want to? Glory, Pone, and Soda can't live without ya ever since they got ya back. Then that means Darry will havta live without you, your parents, and Sodapop. An' even Superman can't make it outta that alive."

"They'd be fine," he said, wrapping his arms around himself as he cried even harder than before. It wasn't as loud, though. "I'm just a waste of space for them. They gotta worry too much about me because I can't handle myself."

"They'd rather worry over ya than live without ya, kid," I said bluntly. He looked away, biting his lip to probably hold back a sob. I moved over to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders after deciding I was safe to do that. "Ya been through too much to give up. We all know you'll be okay. We ain't expectin' ya to make a full recovery in a day. You can have as much as time ya need, but ya havta keep fightin'."

"It hurts so bad," he whispered, looking at me with tired eyes. They were drooping, and I knew he had worn himself out. He was exhausted. "I don't think I could do it."

"Sure ya can. Ya got us here," I said gently, carefully wiping the tears off of his face. "Now why couldn't ya do this for your brothers? Why'd you make it so they had to come get me?"

"I didn't want them to get you...or anyone. I just...I wanted to do it. I couldn't just stop. I needed to do it," he said, laying his head on my arm. "Now they're probably mad at me, huh?"

"Don't be stupid, Ponykid. Name one time either of them were mad at ya," I said, looking at him with bewilderment. I couldn't understand why on earth he'd thing they were mad at him. They never got angry with him. I got that the men who took him were probably usually angry with him, but he should've known better than to think his brothers would be angry.

"I don't think they have...but I probably hurt them, and I know a lot of you turn your pain to anger. Pain is different than worry. I don't think I've ever hurt them this bad," he said, and I understood. He was right, too. Most of us turned our pain to anger and hated. Ponyboy was perceptive and probably picked up on that within the first few weeks he was back.

"They ain't like that, kid. Not with you at least," I said as I stood up, pulling him with me. "You need to get to bed, 'kay?" He only nodded, rubbing his tired eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. He was always tired as it was.

He opened up the bathroom door and slowly made his way to his and Soda's bedroom. He went to shut it but I stopped it from closing all the way. He wouldn't be allowed to be on his own for a while with him in that state of mind. I watched as he collapsed into bed. A few stray tears still littered his face as he pulled the covers over his body, but once he laid his head on the pillow he was asleep. I sighed heavily before going to the living room. Sodapop and Darry were bawling and holding on to each other. If it wasn't such a serious situation, I would have walked out and left it at that. I didn't like dealing with other people's emotions. I didn't even deal with mine if they weren't anger. "He's asleep in bed," I said and watched as Sodapop jumped up immediately and ran down the hall. I figured he was probably going to go lay with the kid. I doubted he'd go to sleep after all that.

"How'd ya do it?" Darry asked me tiredly as he stood up. I took his spot on the couch and laid down. I decided I'd just crash on their couch for the night. It wasn't like they'd mind.

"Told 'im if he gave me a good enough reason to, then I'd let 'im," I answered truthfully, not caring how mad Darry would get at it. Surprisingly, he didn't look angry.

"What did he say to that?"

"He said you an' Soda would get another shot at life," I said, biting back a yawn. "Told 'im he was wrong. I didn't really calm 'im down. He wore 'imself out."

"Thanks, Dal," he said, running a hand over his face. He looked as tired as Ponyboy had looked.

"Go to sleep, Superman. Everythin'll be just fine," I said and felt weird as I did. It wasn't like me to give out small encouragements like that. That wasn't like me at all. Then again, I had been doing and saying a lot of things that weren't exactly like me. Darry nodded and gave a wave of his hand as he turned and walked down the hallway. I'm pretty sure he went into Sodapop's and Ponyboy's room instead of his own.

"He okay?" Johnny's soft voice said, making me jump. I hadn't noticed him in the room when I came in. I looked down and saw him laying on the floor and staring up at me with his big eyes.

"He'll be just fine, Johnnycakes. Get some sleep."


	16. Chapter 16 - Too Early

***Ponyboy's POV***

It didn't take long to really regret what I was going to do that night. Sodapop cried everyday and Darry had a helpless look on his face. I couldn't go to school until after break because they wanted to keep an eye on me for as long as they could. When my brothers were at work, the gang was over to watch me. I couldn't even take a shower without one of them in the room with me. Sodapop was the one who would sit in there with me, and I would be able to hear him cry. I don't think I was supposed to because it had sounded like he was trying to keep quiet.

The woman from the state came by to talk to us the day after my attempt. We didn't tell her about what happened the night before. We told her about what happened the day I was taken again and she came to the conclusion I could stay living with them when we finally got it across to her that it was something that couldn't have been prevented. Well, it could have if I told them about it sooner, but that's not what we meant. The only way we probably could have stopped it from happening was if the cops were there to shoot them or something like that.

It was about four days until Christmas before I had another breakdown. It came out of nowhere, but I wasn't trying to hurt myself that time. I just couldn't stop crying. Darry and Sodapop had both been working at the time so Two-Bit and Johnny were over. Steve was at work with Sodapop or else he would've been there, too. I think Dallas was helping his rodeo partner with something, but I'm not too sure. I had only went to the kitchen to get myself a drink when I started crying. The reality of never having another Christmas with my parents hit me so suddenly that I dropped the glass and fell to the floor in tears. I was a baby when I last had a Christmas with my entire family. It would never happen again. It didn't help matters that the anniversary of their deaths was coming up in a couple weeks.

"Pone?" Two-Bit called out from the living room. A moment later, both him and Johnny were kneeling beside me. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"His hand is bleedin'," Johnny pointed out. I hadn't noticed.

I felt Two-Bit pick me up and carry me back to the living room. He sat me on the couch before going to the bathroom. He came back out with a first aid kit. Johnny sat next to me and was rubbing circles on my back while talking to me in a soothing voice. It wasn't working. I continued to wail as I clung to Johnny. "What's wrong with ya, Pone? What is it?" Two-Bit asked gently as he took my hand. He was probably cleaning the blood on my hand and wherever it came from. I think I cut my hand on the glass when I fell to the floor.

"My parents," I whimpered, trying to hold the tears back. It wasn't working.

"Oh, Pone," Johnny said with a sigh, letting me hide my face in his chest.

"It's been so long since I had a Christmas with them...and it'll never happen again," I explained through my sobs.

"Ya still got your brothers an' us," Two-Bit tried. "I know it ain't the same, but it's all we can give ya...I'm sorry, Pone." He sounded like he was shook up, too. I was being selfish at the moment. I forgot that my parents were like their parents. That's how everybody had described it. "Do ya want me to call one of your brothers?"

I shook my head. "No, it's okay. Sorry."

"Pony," Johnny started but I lifted my head and shook it no.

"No. I'm sorry. Don't tell Darry or Soda about this, please. They're going through the same thing and I don't want to remind them of it," I said, wiping the tears away. "It was stupid."

"It wasn't stupid, Ponyboy Michael Curtis," Two-Bit said, grabbing my chin and making me look at him. I shrunk away on instinct and his grip softened but he didn't let go. "It was expected. Every single one of us were wonderin' when this was gonna hit ya. It's a lot to live with. Darry an' Soda went through it an' we were all there to help 'em through it. We're here to help ya through it, too."

Darry and Soda had their breakdowns closer to the accident. I guess it was strange it took almost a year for me to have it. Of course I had my breakdown over their deaths, but the entire reality of my parents being dead didn't hit me until then. "Sorry..." I whispered, hiding my face back in Johnny's shirt.

"I'm callin' Soda. It'd be easier for 'im to get here instead of Darry," Two-Bit said and I felt him move away.

"No..." I whimpered. "I just...I can't always depend on either of them to be here for me when I need it."

"They're your brothers, Pone," Johnny said gently, forcing my face up so I was looking at him. "They're supposed to be there for ya."

"This is different," I argued. "They deal with enough. Just...you can tell them later. There isn't a rush for him to get here. I'm already calming down. See?"

They didn't end up telling my brothers. They agreed not to call, and we just hung out in the living room watching whatever came on TV. They left it up to me to tell my brothers what happened. I talked about it with Sodapop that night and he only gave me a sad smile before wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. I think we both cried ourselves to sleep that night.

I was the first one awake a few days later on Christmas morning. I wouldn't say I was excited to open presents because I really wasn't. We couldn't afford much as it was. I wasn't expecting many presents, and I didn't want them, either. I enjoyed spending time together, but we did that all the time anyways. Holidays weren't really that special in my eyes. They just seemed lonely, and people seemed to think about the previous holidays. I felt left out because they all had memories while I only remembered a handful of things from when I was a young child with my family. They all had shared memories of different holidays while I didn't.

When I got out of bed, I changed into a more comfortable pair of sweats and a sweater. I was still cold, though, so I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and put on a pair of Darry's old slippers that he had given me even though they were too big. I walked out to the living room and saw the entire gang still asleep. Johnny was on the couch curled up under his blanket. Even though he had a heavy blanket over him he still looked cold, so I through my blanket over him, too. He was a small guy like me so he was cold easily, too. Whenever Johnny was over, the gang gave him the couch to sleep on. I thought that was really sweet of them. Dallas was on Darry's recliner. He didn't look that peaceful sleeping. I could only imagine the horrid memories he had for holidays. Not just him, of course. I couldn't imagine every holiday was that nice for any of the gang. Steve was asleep in a ball on the floor beside the couch. It was amusing for me whenever I saw him sleep. He was usually very mean and almost hateful around people, but when he was asleep he looked like a child. Two-Bit did make me laugh when I saw him. He was sprawled out across the floor right in front of the Christmas tree. He was on his stomach with his limbs going in different directions, but he didn't look uncomfortable.

Shaking my head, I stepped around the bodies on the floor until I got to the door. I took a last look around the living room and smiled. It was hard to put the Christmas tree up. We had did it a few days after I got home from the hospital. The gang offered to do it for us, but it was something me and my brothers had to do alone. I guess it was something us kids did alone as it was when we were kids. Dad put up the tree but left us to decorate it. Mom tried to let us kids put the topper on but we always made her do it. I didn't remember any of that, but my brothers had explained the tradition to me. We didn't know what to do with the topper. In the end, Darry gave it to me and told me either I put it on top of the tree or I put it in the box and it stays there until the next year.

I put it on top of the tree.

I bit my lip, no longer smiling, and stepped out onto the porch. It was still dark outside, so I figured I woke up long before anybody else would be up. I peeked inside and saw on the clock that it was just after four. I sighed and wrapped my arms around my knees. I was thankful that there was no wind, but it was still snowing and freezing. I hated being able to see my own breath. If I could see my own breath then it was too cold. Yet there I was sitting outside on Christmas morning.

It really bothered me that I couldn't remember Christmas with my parents. I had three Christmas' with them and I was unable to remember any of them. I couldn't remember feeling too excited to go to sleep on Christmas Eve. Soda said that my third Christmas me and him tried to stay up all night to wait for Santa Claus. I fell asleep first at about three in the morning. He fell asleep not long after me, and our parents found us huddled together in his room asleep. I really wished I could remember that. I couldn't remember any of it.

"Merry Christmas, mom and dad," I whispered, looking up at the clouds. I didn't know if they were looking down on us or not. I didn't know if I believed in heaven or god or anything. If there was a god, why was I punished that much for so long just to come home and lose my parents? If there was a god, he didn't like me very much. I knew Christmas was supposed to be Jesus' birthday, but what were we really celebrating? We were celebrating the day the son of Christ was born, but what if none of that was true? It wasn't fair that people just seemed to expect us all to believe in the same thing. I couldn't believe in Jesus or a god of any type. But, setting religion aside, I still wondered if there was a way my parents were watching over us. Maybe they weren't in heaven. Maybe they were just spirits living on with us as if they weren't gone. Maybe they were still right there with us. I rested my chin on my knees and sighed heavily. "I love you guys."

"They love you, too," a voice from behind me said. I jumped and spun around. Steve was looking at me through the screen door. He looked exhausted, but he still came out and sat with me with his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. I watched him the entire time, still recovering from the little scare. He gave me a light punch on the shoulder and apologized. "It's a little cold out here, don't ya think?"

"I don't mind," I shrugged. Sure, I was freezing and I hated being cold, but I didn't mind sitting out there.

"Why ya up so early? I get that it's Christmas an' all...but kids don't start wakin' up till a bit later," he asked, giving me a look that said he knew why I was awake and he was expecting the truth. I decided to just avoid that conversation.

"I'm not a kid. Fourteen isn't a kid. I know you guys call me a kid, and I don't mind it, but I'm not a kid," I informed him.

He sighed and took one side of his blanket off of his shoulders and wrapped it around me, scooting closer. I didn't reject the small invitation. I moved closer to him and wrapped the blanket around the front of me. He pulled his side of the blanket further around himself, too, so the both of us were completely enclosed. "You're still a kid. Don't let nobody tell ya otherwise," he said quietly, looking up at the snow falling from the sky. "All of us. We're all just kids."

I knew I shouldn't have been asking those types of questions, but I couldn't help myself. "Do you ever miss your mom?"

"Course," he answered without hesitation as if he was expecting me to ask it. "I always miss her. You know what happened to her?" I shook my head. "She left when I was young. Just up and left."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I guess she wasn't ready to settle down just yet."

"Have you heard from her?"

He gave me a sad smile before shaking his head. "Nah. She left and we haven't heard anythin' from her since," he said. I lowered my head and kept my mouth shut. I knew I shouldn't have brought it up. I didn't want to make him sad. "Hey, kid, don't worry," he said as if he read my thoughts. "I don't mind talkin' 'bout her."

"You don't deserve to live with that," I whispered. "Do you hate her?"

"I've tried, just like I've tried hatin' my dad, but I can't do it," he replied. "I can't hate my ol' man cause at least he stayed. Sure, he kicks me out, but he knows I got somewhere to go when he does, and he tries to make up for it, which is more than my mom. But I can't hate my ma cause nobody should have to settle with somethin' they don't want to settle with."

"Why are you telling me all this?" I asked, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "Why do you all open up to me when you act like you don't care about anything? All of you have at some point and you all do it more than just one time. Why?"

"I don't know, honestly," he said, rubbing my hair. "I like talkin' to ya, an' I really like when ya talk back."

I bit my lip again before bringing my hand up to my face to bite on my nails instead. "I wish I remember at least a moment of Christmas with my parents. I can't remember a single thing," I admitted. "What's your most favorite Christmas memory?"

"The Christmas before my mom left. Me, her, an' my ol' man were gettin' along at the time. Life was good when you're too young to understand it," he said with a small sigh.

"Do you hate life?"

"As much shit as I talk, nah, I don't hate life. I love my life," he said. He gave me a smile but I was too confused to give him one back. I couldn't understand how anybody could love their life, especially when they had so much to hate about it. He had enough to hate about his life. "I have the perfect job for me. I'm lookin' to graduate high school. I have all of y'all, not to mention the best girlfriend. We all have fucked up things in our life. Yeah, there's shit I wish wasn't the case with my life. I wish my mom was still 'round. I wish my ol' man an' me got along more. I wish your folks were still alive, an' I wish we never lost ya. But I can't complain 'bout my life. I love it despite the shit it gives me."

"You really do?"

"Yeah, kid," he said softly. "I really do. Now c'mon. It's freezin' out here." He stood up and held out his hand for me. I looked up at him as the blanket fell from both of our shoulders. "Kid?"

"Do you think mom and dad are mad at me for what happened a few weeks ago?" I asked. I felt tears well up in my eyes at the thought. I never wanted them to hate me.

He knelt down beside me and put his hand on my shoulder. "No," he whispered. "I don't think they're mad at ya. I know they ain't."

"You sure?"

"Positive," he said, standing up and holding his hand out again. I grabbed it and he pulled me to my feet. "Now let's get some rest, or Santa ain't gonna come."

I smirked at him. "I may be a kid, but I don't believe in Santa anymore."

"Believin' in what doesn't exist is the reason this whole thing is fun."


	17. Chapter 17 - Scruffy

When Steve and I had gone back inside, he walked me to my room to make sure I'd get back to bed. He told me to get some more sleep before morning, so I did. I don't exactly remember falling asleep. I do, however, remember waking up. Sodapop was shaking my arm gently and speaking to me in a voice that seemed like he was trying to put me to sleep instead of wake me up. "Pony, baby, Merry Christmas," he was whispering. "It's time to get up."

"Soda?" I whispered back, not fully awake yet and unable to tell if it was him for sure. I hadn't opened my eyes yet and I couldn't completely hear his voice. It sounded distant, as if I was still asleep.

"Yeah, honey. It's me," he said as he started stroking my hair. "Can ya wake up for us?"

"Merry Christmas, Soda," I said softly, forcing my eyes open. "Where's Darry?"

"He's in the livin' room with everyone else. They're all waitin' for ya," he answered, still stroking my hair and making no move to stop. "Steve told me 'bout this mornin'."

It took me a moment to remember the small talk me and him had, but when I did I nodded. I figured he would tell Soda. Nothing concerning me was really a secret from anyone in the gang, especially my brothers. I didn't mind really. We were all a family. I had no secrets to keep. Besides, it didn't feel right to keep secrets from them when they were pretty open with me about what's going on and their own personal feelings. "Are you mad that I went outside that late?" I asked. That was the only thing I could really be concerned about. I hadn't thought about the consequences of going outside that late.

"No, baby, I'm not mad," he almost whispered. "Promise me, though, that you won't make a habit of doin' that? I don't wanna wake up to find you...gone."

I knew what he meant even though he wouldn't say it. He said the word gone as if he meant the word missing, but I knew he meant dead. He didn't want me to sneak out and get myself killed. I wasn't that desperate to die anymore, though I hated the fact that I had to live with everything that I did. But I didn't want to cause my brothers anymore pain by dying. There was no doubt in my mind that the gang cared about me. I couldn't do that to them. "I promise."

He gave me another soft smile. "Let's go eat breakfast an' open presents, 'kay?" he suggested.

"Okay," I said, allowing him to help me sit up. My body was still in too much pain for my liking, but I did my best to keep quiet about it. My wrist and ribs were still broken. While my wrist didn't give me too much problems, my ribs made many things, like sitting up, difficult. I couldn't hide the pain from Soda since he saw it the most often when I got in and out of bed. I'm sure he told everybody else, but they hadn't mentioned it to me. I think they could sense the pain. Maybe the pain was just that severe that they could feel it, too.

I was half-asleep, still, as we walked into the living room. "Merry Christmas, Pone," Darry greeted when he saw us. I gave him a smile and went to respond but I could only yawn. He grinned. "Wake ya too early?"

"No, this was okay," I said, not wanting them to feel bad. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost seven in the morning. I felt that it was way too early to be up and opening presents, but I figured that it was maybe tradition in our family. "Merry Christmas, guys."

"Merry Christmas, sleepin' beauty," Two-Bit said before anybody else had the chance to reply. Leave it to Two-Bit to crack jokes at seven in the morning on Christmas. He looked fully awake. Soda and Darry didn't look too tired, but I suppose they were probably used to it if it was tradition. Johnny and Steve both looked like they were having difficulty waking up, too. Dallas would never show any sign of what he would consider weakness. Being tired happened to be one of those things. He made sure to look away whenever he yawned. He already yawned three times since I came out.

"You hungry?" Darry asked. I wasn't surprised that he was the one who asked that. Out of the entire gang, he was the one who made sure I had everything I needed. He made sure I ate, went to sleep, and take showers. I was slightly annoyed with the fact that he always made me do those things even if I didn't want to, but I understood. He was trying to make me feel less depressed about everything by making me do things as normal. He even made me do chores. I was thankful for that one.

"Not really," I said honestly even though I knew Darry wouldn't accept that answer. He'd try to persuade me to eat. He would force me in the end, but he'd make it sound like he was only trying to convince me. It was for my own good in the end. Going without food isn't exactly great for a person. "I'll eat a little, though."

He smiled at me, probably happy that I offered to eat something without him forcing me to. I hated to worry him with my lack of appetite. It was hard to keep food down, so I wanted to eat less and less. I hated throwing up. My body was doing better, though. I was able to keep down more things, but I could barely go a day without throwing up at least once. The doctors had said that it was normal and we shouldn't worry too much about it. My body just had to get used to it. It was strange for me, though, because it wasn't that bad the first time I came back from the basement. I was gone for nine years then, and my body was able to handle the change way better than expected. After being gone for only about a month, I wasn't able to handle the change even half as well. The doctor said that my body was being forced to change habit too often and it was getting harder for it to adapt.

"What doya want?" he asked, leading me into the kitchen. He made a big breakfast, which I later learned was Christmas tradition. He made about everything I could imagine for breakfast, including some sweets such as cake, brownies, and cookies. We always had the cake, though. He made eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausage, and bacon.

"Can I have cookies?" I asked, hopeful. Cookies were my favorite snack food. I loved cookies more than cake, but it was rare in my house. I'm sure that if I actually told everybody how much I loved cookies then we'd have them a lot more, but I didn't want to bother any of them. I doubt they wanted to start making cookies. Cookies were more tedious than cake, and they were too expensive to buy all the time. These cookies weren't homemade. Homemade cookies were my favorite, but I didn't mind them being bought, either. Both tasted good.

"Anything else?" he asked, putting a few cookies on a small plate for me.

"A pancake?"

"Pancake and cookies it is," he said, putting the smallest pancake on my plate. Me and him worked together with my eating. While I would eat because he wanted me to, he would make sure to give me smaller portions to eat instead of eating how much the rest of them ate. "Chocolate milk?"

"Yes, please," I nodded. He smiled at me and poured a glass of chocolate milk. He set the cup and plate on the counter and stepped up to me with his arms open. I walked into his hug and allowed myself to feel small and safe in his grip.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered in my ear, squeezing me.

"Merry Christmas, Dare," I whispered back. "I love you."

I felt him smile into my hair as he hugged me. "I love ya, too, Lil Colt," he said, rubbing the back of my head affectionately. He pulled away, still smiling. "Let's go open presents, huh?"

"Okay," I agreed. I was nervous. I hated the fact that they were giving us presents but I had no way to give any of them anything. I had expressed that to Darry a few days ago and he said of course I didn't. I didn't have a job so I had no way of getting money to buy them anything. He said it wasn't a big deal. He said the best thing I could give them for Christmas is my effort to get better and make it through everything I've been through. He said as long as they had me they'd be happy. I still felt bad.

I think Darry could sense how I felt and what I was thinking because he put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You're a fourteen year old kid," he said, bending down slightly so he was my height. "You haven't even been home a year, and the past few months have been hard. Nobody is gonna think anythin' cause you haven't given any of us a gift for Christmas. Christmas isn't even about presents. It's 'bout family."

"So...nobody will be mad?" I asked, biting my lip as I stared at my oldest brother.

"I promise nobody'll be mad," Darry assured, and this time I believed him. I nodded and let him lead me into the living room where everybody was sitting quietly. It wasn't often they were that quiet, but it didn't seem like a pained silence. Whenever everybody was this quiet before there was usually a grave reason behind it. This time, though, nobody looked like they were trying to keep the tears from flowing. They all just looked lost in memories.

Two-Bit was the first to notice our appearance in the room. "'bout time! I was gettin' ready to start openin' things by myself," he grinned. It was hard not to roll my eyes everytime he spoke. Two-Bit was a good buddy. He always kept us laughing.

"Hush up, will ya?" Steve groaned, still looking like he was barely awake. Maybe he wasn't even trying to wake up. It didn't look like he was.

"It's Christmas! You don't gotta be so grouchy," Two-Bit said, his body tensing up as if he was waiting for something to hit him. A second later, Steve's fist came around to hit Two-Bit, but since Two-Bit was ready he easily dodged it while wearing a cocky grin.

"Come sit down," Soda said, patting both of the seats next to him. One seat was for me and the other was for Darry. Both of us sat down on either side of him and he wrapped his arm around me. He treated me as if I was younger than I really was, but that was okay. They all did that, but Soda was worse with it. I didn't mind it. I was still their baby brother.

I silently chewed on a cookie while they started handing out presents. It wasn't anything huge, but it was so much for me. None of us really had money but they did their best. Some presents were from more than one person. For example, Soda and Darry (with my name on it, too) bought Johnny a new jean jacket. I got books from Johnny, Two-Bit, and Steve. The Great Gatsby, Of Mice and Men, and A Tale of Two Cities were the three books I got. Dallas got me a new backpack. Mine had been falling apart since it was not only a hand-me-down, but it was also usually filled to the brim with books and my school supplies. Sodapop got me a journal with a handwritten note inside saying that if there was anything I wanted to talk about but couldn't get the words out then I could write it in there. He said he thought it'd help. I thought it might, too. Darry got me the pair of track shoes he'd been talking about getting me for months. The shoes I had I used for running and for everyday use. They were falling apart, too, but not bad enough where I couldn't wear them out of the house. They were hard to run in, though. The track shoes would make running so much easier for me. My family was more than anybody could ask for, and it only got better.

"We have one more gift for ya, Pone," Soda said while I was reading the backs of the books I had gotten. I looked up at him, surprised probably evident on my face. I had already gotten so much. "This one is from all of us."

"We talked to some of the doctors, and they said it was probably a good idea," Darry continued and I looked over at him. "They said that only will you more than likely love it, but it can help things get better for ya."

I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. I didn't want to ask where or what it is because I didn't want to sound like I just wanted more presents, but I also didn't want to tell them that they shouldn't have gotten me anything else because I didn't want to sound ungrateful. Plus I didn't want to get a lecture on how I was worth it or anything else they would have said. I was grateful for everything I had and everything they did for me. I was grateful for them in general, and I knew I was more trouble than I was worth.

"I'll go grab it," Steve said with a wide grin as he hopped up and jogged down the hall. Him, Johnny, and Dallas had all woken up a lot more throughout the morning. It was probably partly the breakfast and partly the excitement.

"You look nervous, Pone," Soda said gently, resting his hand on my back. "What're you thinkin'?"

"How...happy I am. Because you're all in my life," I said quietly, looking back at Soda. "I'm so glad I have all of you."

He smiled at me and pushed my hair out of my face. It was getting long again, and it really needed cut. My hair felt longer without grease in it. "We're glad we have ya, too. Real glad, kiddo."

Steve came out carrying a box with a blanket over it. He set it down on the floor in front of me and all of them gathered around me and Soda. Darry moved down so he was in front of Soda since he was too far away from me, I guess. Slowly, I reached for the blanket. I couldn't help how curious I was to know what was inside of it. I don't know what I was expecting, but I wasn't expecting what was inside. Looking up at me was a small puppy.

The puppy had big, light gray eyes. It's fur was two different shades of brown. The majority of it was a light brown, but it had patches of a darker brown covering it's body. To me, the puppy looked like it was a few weeks, maybe a few months, old. Around it's neck was a dark blue collar.

I was in shock as to what I was seeing. I wasn't even thinking when I reached into the box and lifted the dog out. It's tail was wagging and it had the happiest look on it's face. I set it down on my lap and immediately it was climbing on my chest and sniffing my face. "What...?" I finally forced out of my mouth. Words can't describe how I was feeling. It was amazing.

"We figured a dog would be good for ya," Darry said, gently putting his hand on my knee. "We thought about a cat...but figured a dog would be better."

"She's a girl," Soda added. "We didn't name her. We figured we'd let you do that."

"Do you like her?" Darry asked, sounding nervous.

I couldn't help the tears in my eyes when I looked up and nodded at him. I think I was smiling, but I don't know. I rested my hand on top of the dog's head and pet behind her ears. She gave a quiet bark and started wagging her tail more. "Scruffy," I said, trying to keep the tears out of my voice but failing.

I heard laughter. "I told you he'd name 'er after his stuffed animal," Two-Bit said and I heard the cockiness in his voice.

"We never said you was wrong," Steve said, laughing along with everybody.

"Thank you," I choked out, looking around at all of them. They stopped laughing and simply smiled at me. While Scruffy was still on my lap, Sodapop wrapped both of his arms around me and hugged me tight. "Oh my god, thank you so much."

"You're welcome, baby," Sodapop whispered in my ear.

Even without my parents by my side, I had an unforgettable and wonderful Christmas. My brothers - all six of them - made sure of that. As I looked around the room at my extended family, I saw the love in their eyes. The walls they usually had up were gone. Dallas didn't look angry. Steve didn't look hateful. Johnny didn't look fearful. Two-Bit didn't look guarded. Darry didn't look too old to be twenty. Sodapop didn't look like a part of him was missing. They looked happy. I'm sure I could say the same about me.


	18. Chapter 18 - It's Okay

**A/N So this will be the last chapter! I think this is the end of The Basement. I could write a third one if you guys wanted, but I don't think I should continue something that ended the way this one did. I don't think I want to put the characters through anything else. Maybe I could eventually write a oneshot based on this story, but I don't think it's needed. I don't know. I'll decide down the road based on what everybody wants. I wanna say thank you to the people who have stood by me through these two stories I have responded to some of you, but of course not all. Sometimes saying 'thank you' to everybody every single chapter (since I had no reason not to say thank you...hadn't received negative feedback which amazes me) seems kinda repetitive, I don't know. Anyways, thank you all for reading/commenting/following/favoriting this story and/or The Basement (although I don't know why anyone would read this one and not the first one). I appreciate it all so much! ~Stay Gold**

I was ready to go back to school a week and a half later. When that Monday came around, I woke up and hurried to get ready. Christmas break had really been an eye opener for me. I didn't want to die. I had already lived through too much. What was the point in throwing all of that away? I was going to make it in spite of my past. If I let everything destroy me then my life would have been a waste. I didn't live with the abuse for as long as I did just for me to take my own life. I was going to try and by god I was going to make it.

After my morning shower, I dressed in my best-fitting clothes and greased my hair back. I made sure to cut it the night before so it wasn't too long when I made my appearance back in school. I was already going to be the talk of most people. Might as well look my best. I rolled my eyes when I thought that, of course. I didn't care how I looked. I just enjoyed feeling comfortable.

I heard an excited bark from the hallway as I finished greasing my hair and I couldn't help but smile and open the bathroom door. My dog, Scruffy, was standing there wagging her tail happily. I had learned that she was a golden retriever husky mix. I hadn't known dog breeds before but when they explained the dogs to me I fell in love with her more and more. She was just perfect for me. I couldn't wait for winter to be over because she'd love running and I'd love taking her with me. Of course, my body had to heal, too, but I'd run with broken ribs if my brothers would let me. It would be painful but I'd live with it. It would be worth it in my opinion.

"Hey, girl," I said, kneeling down to pet my dog. I didn't care that I was getting covered in dog hair. It wasn't a big deal to me or any of my brothers. I laughed lightly as she started licking all over my face. She was a really energetic puppy, but she was also very lazy. I thought it was hilarious. One minute she'd be running around and trying to play with everybody and the next she'd be curled up beside me on the couch and sleeping. I couldn't imagine a better dog. She was a pain to train, though. We were all still working on it, but it was going as well as could be expected.

"Ponyboy Michael Curtis, if you do not quit foolin' 'round with that dog you will be late to school!" Darry hollered from the kitchen. I rolled my eyes and stood up. He wasn't angry, of course. He wasn't really yelling, either. He was teasing me because all I could talk about the day before was school and how excited I was to go back. He was probably teasing me because I was wasting my time petting Scruffy instead of talking about how excited I was to go back to school again.

"I've been thinking about this whole school thing," I said as I entered the kitchen. "I don't think it's for me. I'm sure there are plenty of other things I could do with my life. I could be a real gangster, don't you think?"

"I think you're right," Soda said from the table with a mouthful of food. "I could so see you bein' a straight up gangsta. You'd be a better hood than Tim Shepard."

"Ain't I already?" I asked as I grabbed a cookie from the counter. We still had leftover cookies from Christmas, but I was definitely taking care of them. Nobody complained about me eating a lot of cookies because I was eating something instead of skipping meals. I ate more than cookies, of course. Eating only cookies made me feel lousy.

"Who ya gettin' mouthy with this time, kid?" a voice called out from the living room. I peeked through the doorway and saw Steve laying half-awake on the couch.

"Steve!" I shouted dramatically. "You'll make me late to school!"

"Wouldn't want that, would we?" he grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "I swear, leave it ta you ta look forward to school. Why the hell you so talkative?"

It's crazy. Before Christmas, I would have probably stopped talking if he had said that to me. It would have hurt me and it would take me days to talk again. But Christmas was a huge eye-opener. None of them meant any harm whenever they said something like that to me. It was a huge joke, and I definitely wouldn't want to miss out on having a laugh. "Why you still listening if it's such a problem?" I shot back with a grin before turning back into the kitchen.

"Stop talkin' to Two-Bit. You're soundin' more an' more like 'im 'ery day," Darry said, giving me a fake stern look. "I always knew he'd be a bad influence on ya."

"Nah, I don't think it was Two-Bit," Soda said, smirking at me. "I think he got all this attitude from Johnny."

Darry smacked his forehead. "Of course! How could I forget the attitude Johnny got? That where you're learnin' all this talk, little buddy? Maybe you an' him shouldn't talk to each other no more."

"Nah, that'd be too easy," Steve said as he joined us in the kitchen. He snatched the cookie out of my hands and shoved it into his mouth. "Take 'way his fuckin' cookies."

"You wouldn't," I said with a loud gasp.

"Try me," he said with a smirk.

"Alright, alright," Darry said, putting his hands up. "I hear Two-Bit's car. Time for school." Then he looked directly at me with worried eyes. "Will you be okay? Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I'll be okay," I said confidently. I felt like a completely different person. School would be much different than it was before. I could feel it, just like I could feel how the gang had all stopped being so careful with me over the previous nine days. Maybe they could feel it, too.

I could see Darry's eyes soften more and I knew he believed me. But of course he couldn't leave it at that. He had to be sure. I couldn't blame him. "If things get bad, ya know ya can call me. I'll pick you up. I already talked to the boss and he understands," he said, coming over to stand in front of me. "Stick close to the guys, 'kay?"

"I will," I assured him. "I promise I'll call you if I need to."

"Good," he said, squeezing my shoulder before handing me another cookie. "Make sure ya get some lunch." He turned to Steve. "Make sure he eats."

"No worries," Steve said as he stripped his shirt. I think we all rolled our eyes. Leave it to Steve to get dressed for school thirty seconds before it was time to leave. He went into mine and Sodapop's shared bedroom and came out a minute later wearing some of Soda's clothes. They weren't exactly the same size but they weren't that far off, either. Steve had bigger muscles and Soda did but that was the biggest difference.

Darry gave me a hard look. "If you see anythin' that looks out of place, go to the office and call me," he said seriously. "If you recognize any person, car, anything. 'kay?"

I bit my lip and nodded. That was probably the only thing that still bothered me. I was terrified to be found again, but I was hoping it was over. The man who had taken me was found dead not too far away from where I was found apparently. I said that there were more people than just that man, but I couldn't describe any of them. The person who was found dead was the man who had been stalking me all that time. Since we knew that there was at least one more person out there who been around me there were cops keeping an eye on our house. That made things a little easier.

"Please be careful," Soda said, suddenly beside me and Darry.

"I will," I said, looking down at the ground. "Do you think anybody will be there?"

"I dunno, Lil Colt," Darry said, sounding about as scared as I felt. "That's why you need to stick with the guys and go straight to the office if you even think there's someone watchin' ya. Even if there's a chance you're wrong, have the office call the police an' then me an' Soda."

"I will," I said again. I wouldn't risk losing everything I had slowly began to gain. I was getting a life back. I wasn't so willing to give it up.

"Good. Now go grab your bag and get outta 'ere," he said, shoving me gently out of the kitchen.

It didn't take long for us to make it to school. I wasn't as talkative anymore since I was too busy watching everything around me to make sure I was safe. Two-Bit, Johnny, and Steve all understood. They kept giving me supportive smiles and somebody had a hand on my shoulder when we were walking to the school. I looked back and saw that it was Two-Bit. His eyes were hard and were looking around as we made our way to the school. They were all just as terrified as I was that we'd see someone who didn't belong there. Even with the cop that followed us to school none of us were too sure that everything would be okay. I didn't see anything that didn't belong, but that didn't calm me down much.

Once we were inside the school, we were all better. Two-Bit was telling terrible jokes and Steve was rolling his eyes and complaining about Two-Bit's jokes. Me and Johnny walked quietly beside each other. He looked at me with a smile and I smiled right back. We may have been quiet but that didn't mean there was a reason for it. We were just quiet. At my locker, Two-Bit and Steve reminded me to wait for them after class so we could go out to lunch. Johnny stayed with me at my locker. Finally, he spoke.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, looking at me with those big eyes of his. "Ya know...to face the Socs?"

"No," I answered honestly. "Not really. I wouldn't say I'm looking forward to seeing them, of course, but I'm not nervous."

I guess I probably should've been nervous to see the Socials. During the first half of the day, they wouldn't leave me alone. They all had some comments to make and I got hit with a paper ball a handful of times. The teachers had my back, though, as did the other greasers who were around. One Soc thought it'd be funny to try to kick my seat out from under me in third period, but this greaser who was in my class had his eye on me. I caught myself before I fell and when I turned to grab my chair, I saw a greaser from Shepard's crew on top of the Soc. I recognized him from one of the rumbles my outfit and his gang had with each other. Of course I didn't take part in it, but I was still there to watch. He was hitting him so fast that I lost count of how many hits he gave before he was tore off of him by another Soc. That Soc didn't fight him, though. I think he knew better.

"You cool, Curtis?" the greaser asked me.

"Yes. Thank you," I said, trying not to sound scared. I was a little shook up but I didn't let it bother me too bad.

"I'm Greg," he said, holding his hand out to me. I was shocked but I accepted his handshake. That was something I wasn't exactly used to. Before, sure, other greasers would have my back. They all took up for me. What was odd to me was the handshake. That, to me, was a sign of respect. That made pretty much all the bad feelings I had from what just happened disappear.

I made it to gym still feeling so many emotions about the fact that Greg shook my hand. Because of my broken ribs, I was free not to do anything in gym. I sat on the bleachers and waited for Two-Bit to come out from the locker room. When I saw him, I grinned and jogged as carefully as I could over to him. He opened his mouth and I could tell he was about to tell me I should be more careful not to hurt myself but I spoke before he could. "Someone from the Shepard gang shook my hand," I said. I probably sounded pathetic and way over excited but I couldn't help it. "Some Soc kicked my chair to try to get me to fall and Greg landed all over him and then shook my hand."

He raised his eyebrow at me and laughed. "Why ya so happy 'bout that?"

"It's never happened before," I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet. "I mean, sure, other greasers have had me back since I got here and wouldn't let the Socs mess with me, but nobody has ever shaken my hand like that. Like I was more than just someone who had a bad life. It was like he saw me as a person, and he didn't just call me 'the kid' or anything. He called me Curtis."

I think Two-Bit understood what I was saying. He gripped my shoulder and squeezed. "You are somethin' else, kid. Ya know that?"

Me and Two-Bit had to split up after gym to go to our lockers. He told me to stay at my locker until he came and got me with Steve and Johnny so all of us could go out for lunch. That's what I did, too. I shut my locker and leaned against it as I waited for them. They weren't the first ones to make it to me, though. Before I knew what was happening, a fist slammed into the locker beside me. I jumped and looked up to see who it was. It was the Soc who tried to kick my chair away from me. I could tell by the bruises on his face. "So, the pussy is alone," he growled. "Nobody here to have your back this time, basement grease."

"Leave me alone," I said quietly, clenching my fists to steady my shaking.

"Nobody is around to help you this time," he said, stepping closer to me. I looked around the hallway and saw that he was right. There were no greasers. Sure, there were Socs and middle class kids, but nobody who would have my back. Everybody was staring at us. A lot of them had sorry eyes, like the girls. Some Socs did, too, and middle classed kids. But nobody would stop what was happening, and everybody wanted to watch.

"Can't you just leave me alone?" I asked louder than I previously talked. I was scared a moment before but seeing how nobody was going to help me I only got angry. I got mad because these people knew it was wrong but wouldn't do anything to help. I got angry because the people who thought it was okay wouldn't stop bothering me just because they felt they were better than me. I hated being an easy target.

"What're you gonna do about it, basement grease?" he asked, hitting me hard in the chest. Not hard enough to knock the wind out of me, though. "Huh? What're you gonna do? Stop me. I dare you."

"Get away from me," I snapped, pushing him back. He seemed shocked as he took a few steps back to regain his balance. That shock was soon replaced by anger and he pulled back his arm to hit me. I shut my eyes and felt his fist connect to my face. Without even thinking about it, I opened my eyes back up and swung back. I hit him as hard as I could right in his nose. I didn't stop there. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I shoved him back as a sob escaped my throat. I hit him over and over in the chest. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" I was asking through the tears that I barely even noticed were falling from my eyes. The Soc hit me back a few times but I didn't even feel it. I was basically in hysterics, and I was tired of people beating on me.

"Pony!" a not-so-distant voice shouted and I was pulled away from the Socs.

"Get off!" I begged, pushing at the arms. I wasn't scared. I was angry. I was fed up with it. I think that's why I was crying. I think they were tears of anger and frustration.

"Shh, kiddo," Steve whispered into my ear, pinning my arms down at my side. I felt him leading me somewhere but I couldn't tell where. I just knew my feet were moving forward and my eyes were filled with tears to the point that everything was blurred together.

"You're okay, Pone," I heard Two-Bit say when we stopped moving. I was being lowered to the floor but I didn't care. Sitting was better than standing. I lazily brushed away the tears and stared up at my friends. My brothers.

"You better now, Pony?" Johnny asked hesitantly as if he was unsure of what to do or say. I noticed we were on the floor in the bathroom. Thankfully nobody was in there. I was glad they moved us so nobody else would have to witness what was going on.

"Yeah. All better," I answered, holding back a sigh. "Sorry."

"What happened?" Two-Bit asked me in a soft voice.

"I just...I don't like people hitting me all the time," I whispered, shaking my head and looking down at my lap. "He cornered me at my locker. Nobody cared enough to stop him. Then I just...I don't know. I snapped. He was in my face so I pushed him back. Then he hit me. I hit him back...and I couldn't stop." My body started shaking and a new round of tears began. I couldn't believe I couldn't control myself. I hurt somebody. I was no better than the guys who took me. "I didn't mean to..."

"Pone," Two-Bit started to say but I shook my head.

"I couldn't stop. I'm no better than..."

I didn't need to say it. They knew immediately who I was talking about. I felt Steve's hands grip my shoulders hard and give me a small shake. I looked up at him and he was staring at me intently. "Don't you even finish that sentence," he said, sounding threatening. I knew he wasn't threatening me or trying to intimidate me. That's how he got when he was scared or serious. "Christ, Ponyboy, you're nothin' like any of those bastards. You defended yourself. They were abusin' ya. They didn't have to defend themselves from you. You were and are just a kid. That fuckin' Soc had it comin'. He was fuckin' with you an' you defended yourself. We're so proud of ya for that. You were tired of people treatin' ya like that. That's okay."

"It's okay?" I whispered, looking at him and then at Two-Bit and Johnny. It didn't feel okay to me now that I realized what had happened.

"Yes," Johnny said and I looked at only him. He understood the most about what I went through so he would know better than anybody would. "You didn't do nothin' wrong. We're proud of ya, Pony. You did good."

"Are you sure?" I asked him only.

"Positive," he said and gave me a gentle smile.

It took me a minute or so, but I finally nodded. "Okay..." I whispered. If they all thought that it was okay then I had no reason to assume it wasn't. They wouldn't lie to me, and they said that they were proud of me. "Okay, I'm okay now."

"Let's go see Soda," Steve said with a smile, holding out his hand for me. I allowed him to pull me to my feet and then I whimpered. I guess the Soc hit me in my stomach because my ribs hurt bad. "Hey, kid, you okay?"

"I'll be fine," I said, wrapping an arm around my stomach. "Just hurts a bit is all."

"Think you can make it to the car?" Two-Bit asked, putting his hand on my back.

"Yeah, I'll make it just fine," I said, smiling at Two-Bit. It hurt horribly but it was nothing I couldn't handle.

We went to the DX for lunch even though we didn't do that very often. They needed to talk to Sodapop about what happened at school. I sighed quietly to myself when we pulled up to the gas station because I knew Soda would flip out. He probably would make me stay with him for the rest of the day and say that he knew me going back to school was a bad idea. Surprisingly, that's not what happened at all.

"Sodapop, take a break. We need to talk to ya," Steve shouted as he walked into the DX with Two-Bit while me and Johnny walked slower behind them. I wasn't in a hurry to see Soda go crazy with worry.

"It's cause he loves ya, Pone," Johnny said as if he could read my mind. Of course he usually could. I wondered if he could read everybody's minds. Maybe that's why he was friends with Dallas Winston no matter how horrible he acted most of the time. Maybe Johnny could see that there was more to him.

"I know," I said quietly, peeking in the store to see the three of them in a conversation. Judging by the look on Soda's face, he wasn't taking the news too well just yet. "I just hate worrying him."

"C'mon, Pony," Johnny said, opening the door for me. I walked inside and immediatly Sodapop ran over to me.

"You okay, honey?" he asked, checking my body for injuries. He touched me cheek lightly and I flinched away. I guess the Soc who hit me left a bruise. It didn't hurt unless it was touched. "Sorry, baby."

"I'm okay, Soda," I said, grabbing his hand and stopping him from checking me over. "Relax. I'm okay."

"Normally it's us tellin' you to relax," he said softly. "They didn't hurt ya too bad, did they?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm okay."

"Steve an' Two-Bit said you fought back," he said gently when I dropped his hand. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

"I...I really didn't mean to," I said, biting down on my lip. "I got tired of people hitting me. I just kinda...I fought him back, and I didn't stop until Steve grabbed me."

"Kid hits mighty hard," Two-Bit broke in, probably trying to make the situation a bit less serious than it was. "I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that fist."

That seemed to distract Soda completely. Him, Two-Bit, and Steve all began talking about the fight and then fights in general. Me and Johnny sat on the counter and shared a bag of chips and a chocolate bar. "Today was interestin' so far, huh?" Johnny asked, staring at me.

I watched as Soda shoved Steve through the door of the garage before turning around and running out the front of the station. Two-Bit stuck his foot out in front of Steve when he tried to chase Sodapop and he went crashing to the floor. Soda stook his head back inside and started laughing before he got yelled at to get back to work. Steve smirked and silently declared victory of their little fight. Two-Bit was cracking up as he opened a bottle of Pepsi, saying how stupid the two of them were.

I thought back to that morning. Everybody was all so happy and we were having fun. We had a lot of fun since Christmas. Things really changed so suddenly that I don't think any of us could really believe it. It was happening, though. Things were changing. My family weren't going to abandon me. They were going to stick by my side as I got better. Sure, there'd be bad times. I didn't doubt the fact that some days would be too hard to get out of bed and I'd be scared of every little noise that was made. But I also knew that other days they wouldn't be able to shut me up or get me to sit still because I'd be in too good of a mood to sit around doing nothing. Some days memories would be too strong for me but that didn't bother me none. Life wouldn't be any fun if it was that easy. The hardest part of my life was over. I'd have to deal with some consequences from everything, but one thing was certain: I'd always have my family.

"No," I answered, smiling at him. "Today was just a normal day for us."


End file.
